


From the Top

by lucifersfavoritechild



Series: Ironstrange Fics [7]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers (2012) - Freeform, Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Avengers: Endgame, Avengers: Infinity War (Movie), Canon deaths, Canon-Typical Violence, Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Doctor Strange (2016) - Freeform, Endgame, Established IronStrange, Fluff, Iron Man 1, Iron Man 2, Iron Man 3, Ironfamily, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Not the ironstrange, One-Sided Attraction, Spider-Man: Homecoming - Freeform, Spoilers for pretty much the entire MCU, Temporary Character Death, The ironstrange is very much two-sided, This is just me trying to put Stephen in the ironfam, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange parenting Peter Parker | Supremefamily | Strange Family, and you know what? it's working, ironfam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2019-09-05 09:05:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 154,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16807609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucifersfavoritechild/pseuds/lucifersfavoritechild
Summary: “Stephen, if you’re . . . there somewhere . . . when I drift off, I’ll be with you again. I can’t wait.”|| Personally, I think the MCU would be much better as a love story between Stephen Strange and Tony Stark. Don't you?Starting from Iron Man, and going all the way to Endgame, with all the appropriate stops in between. Let's take it from the top.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [С самого начала](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20181403) by [victoria_holmes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoria_holmes/pseuds/victoria_holmes)



_“This thing on?”_

_. . ._

_“Hey, Miss Potts. If you or Rhodey find this recording, don’t feel bad about this. Part of the journey is the end.”_

_. . ._

_“Just for the record, being adrift in space with zero promise of rescue is more fun than it sounds. Food and water ran out . . . four days ago . . . oxygen’ll run out tomorrow morning, and that’ll be it.”_

_. . ._

_“Stephen, if you’re . . . there somewhere . . . when I drift off, I’ll be with you again. I can’t wait.”_

* * *

_— 2008-2010_ _—_

They first met at a party.

This one was organized by the hospital to raise money. It was also Stephen's first upper-class party like that, and he had been more nervous that he would like to admit. He was alone unless you counted the other, more experienced doctors who were also there and who immediately fucked off and did something else as soon as they got there, leaving him alone at the bar. Stephen resisted a sigh and took a drink.

Across the room, Tony was growing increasingly bored listening to doctors fight to get his funding. He planned to give it regardless, but he usually enjoyed it when people fought for his attention. Tonight though, he was looking for something . . . different.

He looked past the doctors around the room, marking off options in his head. _Boring, boring, bad in bed, cries during sex . . . huh._ His eyes landed on a man standing at the bar. _That’s new._ Dark hair, unblemished skin, tall and slender without being skinny, young, but not too young. Looked like he was trying to hide how uncomfortable he was. Not exactly a challenge, but Tony wasn't looking for one.

“Yeah, okay, bye.” He left the doctors behind, eyes trained on his newest target. The man didn’t seem to notice him at first. Tony took the time to look him up and down before asking, “Bored?”

To his credit, the man barely seemed surprised to see him. Or maybe he just didn’t recognize Tony. _Bit insulting, it’s my party, but fine._

He nodded. “A bit.”

“My bad.” He held out his hand for the doctor to shake. “Tony Stark.” _There we go._ There was recognition in the man’s eyes, but he didn’t react apart from that, merely shaking Tony’s hand.

“Stephen Strange.”

Tony smiled and opened his mouth.

“Whatever it is, don’t.”

Tony chuckled, plucking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. “You’ve probably heard just about every ‘strange pun’ under the sun, huh?”

“Twice. It got old around the time I started to speak.”

“Sounds like you could use something new.” Tony turned towards him, angling his head so that his attention was fully on the other man.

Stephen seemed to realize immediately what he meant. He took his time looking over Tony before a smirk slid over his face. “Projecting, much? What, are you tired of the same one-night-stands?”

Tony smiled. “Knew you’d heard of me.” He took a long draw of his drink. “So what do you think? Want to be my something new for the night?”

“If you think you can keep up with me.”

“Cocky. I like that in a man.”

“Really? The version I heard is that you like it in you.”

Tony arched a brow. “Planning to join that list?”

Stephen ‘hmmed’, sliding a hand over Tony’s free one. “Mister Stark . . . you’re going to beg me to join it."

Tony snorted, looking Stephen over his glass of champagne. “I've never begged for anything in my life.”

Stephen smirked. “Then I will be honored to be the first.”

Tony laughed, louder than he meant to. “Oh, I’m gonna have fun with you.”

* * *

“Well”, Stephen muttered to himself, walking up to his apartment, “I can add that to my list of achievements. First person to ever make Tony Stark beg in bed.” It was the best night he’d had in a while, but now he was exhausted from staying awake so long and getting up early, not to mention the party. _At least I don’t have anything to do today_ , he thought, falling into bed _._ So naturally he was forced to wake up four hours later to go to the hospital.

“I’m going to murder Nick,” Stephen said when he got a chance to talk to Christine. Christ, residency was even worse than med school.

“It’s not his fault he’s sick,” Christine said half-heartedly.

“Yes, it is.”

Christine rolled her eyes and walked off, probably having better things to do than put up with his bitching. Stephen downed a cup of coffee as quickly as he could, having little time before he had to go back to work. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered before reminding himself that the rewards were worth the effort.

Stephen was about to get back to work when his phone chimed. He looked down, wondering who was texting him when pretty much everyone he cared to talk to was at the hospital.

_I'm not hungry. Let's get dinner. — You know who I am_

Stephen stared at the phone. _How the hell did he get my phone number?_

. . .

Okay, that was a stupid question. The man was a genius who owned a tech company, it probably took him two seconds.

He considered ignoring it, but if he was honest with himself, he didn’t want to. If nothing else, Tony Stark was new and interesting, two things his life was decidedly lacking lately.

Eyes on the clock, he texted, _Can’t right now. Work._ Then, _Will you still be up at 3?_

_It’s like you know me._

Stephen didn’t realize he was smiling until someone snapped at him to get back to work.

* * *

It was not a walk in the park to date Tony Stark.

The first few weeks were like a dream. When they actually sat down to have a conversation, Tony was surprised by how intelligent Stephen was and how much he genuinely enjoyed speaking to him. It wasn’t long before he was thinking up every excuse he could to stay in New York, even relocating business meetings that would have been in California only to blow them off in favor of showing Stephen off and lavishing him with gifts. But they were two months into their relationship, and he didn’t know how he thought it could last.

Honestly, it was kind of a stupid fight. They were having sex at Stephen’s apartment — he had repeatedly turned down Tony’s offers to buy him a better one — when Tony, curled around Stephen’s back as he fucked into him, said, “God, you’re such a slut, so desperate for my cock, such a fucking _whore_ —”

Stephen turned, pushing Tony away with hands and feet. “Get off— _get off of me!_ ”

Confused, Tony did as he was told, staring at Stephen as he got out of bed and started to get dressed. “What’s wrong?”

Stephen paused, his pants haphazardly hanging around his waist, Tony’s shirt only half on him. “Are you fucking serious? What, do you think I don’t get called that enough already by your _‘friends_ ’?”

Tony did know. He could hardly go three days without someone making a smartass comment about his boyfriend who was ten years younger than him and had little status or resources of his own. Normally he could shrug it off, but tensions were high between them as Stephen had grown more unsettled with Tony’s job and company.

Not that Tony was willing to admit that Stephen might have a point. “Well personally, I thought _gold-digging_ slut suited you better.” He winced when he saw the angry, hate-filled look on Stephen’s face, immediately regretting what he said. “I didn’t mean that—”

“Get out,” Stephen said in a low, cold tone. “Get out. I don’t want you in my apartment.”

“Stephen—”

“No, if all I am is your hooker than I’m sure you can find a cheaper one who’s willing to put up with you. It _is_ New York, after all.” He started throwing Tony’s clothes at him, realizing halfway through that he was wearing his shirt. He took it off and threw that too. “Get. OUT!”

Soon Tony was standing outside the apartment with his shirt and shoes in hand and wondering how he fucked up so badly.

* * *

“Come here often?”

Stephen started at the familiar voice, rolling his eyes when he saw Tony. “Not anymore. The company is terrible.”

“I deserved that.” It had been three weeks since their disastrous breakup, and Tony was no longer too proud to admit that he missed the doctor. And he thought that enough time had passed that Stephen wasn’t as angry as he’d been when he changed the locks on his apartment and blocked his number.

“And much more.” Maybe not.

“I know. And I want to make it up to you.”

Stephen scoffed. “What, the prostitutes in Malibu aren’t up to your high standards?”

“I apologized for that.”

“No, you didn’t actually.”

Tony thought back. “Oh. Well, I meant to. To be fair, you didn’t really give me a chance.”

“And why should I now?” Stephen demanded, looking him in the eye for the first time since he got here.”

“Because the suite I'm staying in has a private hot tub.”

Stephen paused. “That _does_ sound fun.”

Tony smiled, knowing he’d already won. If Stephen were really as upset as he seemed, nothing would have swayed him. But if Stephen wanted him to grovel a bit, then he could do that.

“Plus,” Tony said, reaching into his pocket, “I got you something.” He set the box on the counter, standing back to let Stephen choose whether or not to take it.

Luckily, resisting temptation had never been one of Stephen’s strengths. After a brief moment of curiosity, he took the box, his eyes widening a fraction when he saw the label on the top. He looked up at Tony. “Are you serious?”

“Open it and find out,” Tony said with a sly smile.

Still looking at him, Stephen obeyed, delicately lifting the watch out. “Jesus, Tony.” The watch was perfectly designed, made of shining platinum and steel, with a white face and black leather band.

“You said you wanted it,” Tony said.

Stephen frowned. “When?”

“Don’t know,” Tony lied, distinctly remembering when Stephen had brought it up when they were lying in bed together. “Thought you’d appreciate it.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Stephen’s mouth. “You’re laying it on pretty thick, don’t you think?”

“Is it working?”

Stephen couldn’t help a small smile. “It’s incredibly ostentatious. And, I’m sure, _ridiculously_ expensive.”

“Oh good, you like it.”

For the first time in weeks, Tony heard Stephen laugh.

* * *

They lasted two months.

* * *

So they continued, apart for a few weeks, together longer, much to the annoyance of everyone who knew them. Christine, especially, grew tired of Stephen’s periods of whining, mooning, and bitching. But it was worst in November of 2008. That year, Stephen’s birthday just so happened to intersect with his relationship with Tony. And Tony, being the show-off he was, wanted to plan something _big_.

Christine still didn't know how she got roped into helping him.

“Now, for Stephen’s sake, and _hoping_ we can keep this out of the tabloids—” a problem she never thought she’d have— “let’s try to keep it low-key and classy.”

“I agree completely,” Tony said. “How many strippers do you think we need?”

_Jesus fucking Christ._

* * *

The party ended up taking place on an island in the Caribbean. There were two hundred people, of whom Stephen knew around ten, plus about two dozen strippers, and a champagne tower that someone knocked over, and then someone else cut their tongue open on the broken glass when they tried licking up the champagne from the floor. Stephen and Tony missed this because they were having sex on a completely different part of the island. Christine never went to another one of Tony’s parties.

* * *

When the next year rolled around, Tony and Stephen were decidedly not together. Work was stressing him out, and the idea of taking a break for his birthday was laughable. He only got home at four am. When Stephen fell into bed, he was annoyed to realize that he couldn’t fall asleep. His apartment was too . . . quiet. Quiet and empty. He just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

“What the fuck am I doing?” Sighing, he sat up and grabbed his phone. _5:21._ He groaned, running ideas through his head for something to take his mind off of how fucking depressing this was before he remembered hearing about Tony being in the city for a conference.

The last thing he’d wanted when he woke up that morning was to see Tony. It was just a reminder of how things had changed since the year before, of how they were never going to work because they could barely stand to be around each other for more than a month.

_But I miss him._

He waited a few minutes before calling him. “Hey. I . . . heard you were in New York.”

Thirty minutes later, Stephen was screaming Tony's name into a pillow and had completely forgotten about why he was upset.

At least until afterwards when Tony kissed his cheek and whispered, “Happy birthday.”

* * *

Christine sat listening to Stephen complain about Tony, who was of course in New York again, clearly expecting Stephen to fall into his bed later, and Stephen was saying that that would definitely _not_ happen for the third time that year. Once he paused for breath, Christine said, “You know Stephen, every time Tony turns up in New York again — which he does ten times as much as he did before he met you — you insist that nothing's going to happen and you'll just ignore him. Then you say it was just a one-night stand and it didn't mean anything. Two days later, you're singing his praises, talking about how _thoughtful_ he can be and how things really weren't _that_ bad before and there was no reason this time couldn't be better, and can we just skip to that part already? Because honestly, that is when you're at your _least_ unbearable during this whole thing.”

Stephen flushed. “That's not—”

“It has been exactly like this every time for three. Years. Three years! Just fuck him and get it over with.”

Stephen bristled, sitting back and refusing to speak to her for the rest of the day. Christine was perfectly fine with that.

Later, when Stephen was laying back against Tony’s arm with the blankets over them, he asked Tony, “Why do we keep doing this? I know the reasons we never work — _all_ of them — but why do you keep coming back?”

Tony chuckled, rolling over to grab a complimentary bottle of champagne from the hotel room’s nightstand. “Three years and you’re just now asking?”

“It was on my mind.” He kicked at Tony’s leg. “Come on, Tony. If this was just sex, you could go to anyone. You wouldn’t have to fly across the country and fuck up your schedule even more every two weeks.”

“Bold of you to assume I have a schedule.” He gulped down some of the champagne and offered it to Stephen, who refused.

“Just answer me, Tony.”

Tony sighed, thinking about it with one hand curled around the neck of the bottle. “You're charming . . .”

“Charming?” That was about the last thing he would use to describe himself, but Tony seemed serious.

Tony nodded. “Charming, and smart, and witty, and nicer than you seem. And I . . . miss you. When we're not together, I miss you.”

Stephen stared at him, stunned. He knew why he was still there. Tony Stark was . . . electric. He was life personified. Stephen was drunk on him.

But he never realized that his infatuation was so . . . mutual.

Stephen pulled Tony back down to the bed, taking the bottle and dropping it gently to the floor. “Get some sleep. You have a lot to do tomorrow.”

Tony groaned. “Ugh, don’t remind me. Next time, _you_ come to California so I don’t have to make two trips in two days.”

“Or you could just _not_ decide to fly to New York at the last minute when you know you’ll have to go back _and_ go to Afghanistan right after.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want you to all have very low expectations for consistent updates, I have no idea how long this will be or how long it will take to write.


	2. Iron Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some ironstrange for Christmas

* * *

_— 2010 —_

When Stephen got a phone call two days later, he didn’t bother checking who it was. “Tony?” He’d expected the other man at his apartment hours ago, but it didn’t surprise him that Tony was late. _Honestly, it probably would have been more worrying if he was on time._ “There you—”

“Doctor Strange?”

Stephen paused. “Pepper?” He knew Tony’s assistant, had met her plenty of times before. But she’d never called him. “Where’s Tony?”

He heard Pepper take in a breath, but everything after that was a blur.

_Kidnapped._

He was only supposed to be gone for a day.

_Afghanistan._

Stephen felt strangely numb as he said, “Thank you, Miss Potts,” and hung up the phone.

* * *

Tony spent a lot of time thinking.

There wasn’t much else for him to do, truth be told. He wouldn’t build the weapons they wanted. They could take his life if they wanted — and they would whether he made them the weapons or not — but he refused to allow even one more person to die because of him. Never again.

He thought a lot about what he could or _should_ have done. How many people had been lost because of his ignorance, his weapons? How many lives shattered?

He didn't even know how to start counting.

Sometimes he thought about the people in his life, how he should have treated them better. About Pepper and Rhodey and Stephen. He wondered if they were thinking about him.

Probably not.

“I'm sure they're looking for you, Stark,” Yinsen said, as though he could sense his thoughts. “But they will never find you in these mountains.”

Tony didn’t respond.

Yinsen sighed. “Look, what you just saw, _that_ is your legacy, Stark. Your life's work, in the hands of those murderers. Is that how you want to go out? Is this the last act of defiance of the great Tony Stark? Or are you going to do something about it?”

“Why should I do anything?” Tony demanded. “They're going to kill me, you, either way. And if they don't, I'll probably be dead in a week.”

Yinsen thought about that. “Well, then . . . this is a very important week for you, isn't it?”

* * *

“No news?” Pointless question. He'd have seen something on TV if there was.

He asked anyway.

Pepper sighed, sounding as tired as him. “No. Not yet.”

 _Not yet._ Almost insanely optimistic, all things considered. “Thanks anyways.” Pepper had called a few more times after the first. Checking up on him, probably, though Stephen wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if she’d ever liked him. _Tolerate is a better word._

Most of his time was spent at the hospital. He worked until he physically couldn’t anymore, or until Christine forced him to take a break. He even worked in the ER when there was nothing left for him to do.

“I’ll call you if we hear anything.”

“Thank you,” Stephen said absently. “Oh, and if you're going to be at his house any time soon, can you just . . . check on the bots, please? He'd hate it if they were alone for too long.”

He kept thinking of the time they went together on a trip. Italy, to a house that had belonged to Tony’s mother once. They spent two weeks there once Tony finally convinced him to go, but his mind kept pulling him back to a specific moment. They were spread out on the ground outside, watching the sunrise. Stephen was resting his head on Tony's shoulder, half-asleep. Tony brushed his fingers through Stephen's hair and didn't try to move him.

It was one of the only pure memories Stephen had of the two of them together — most of the others were marred by the people they were, their arrogant and obnoxious personalities, their lack of care for other people, even each other.

He wished they had more memories like that.

“I will.”

* * *

“You still haven't told me where you're from.” They were taking a precious break, both needing it after the draining week they’d had. A terrorist-filled cave halfway around the world from his home wasn’t the ideal location for . . . well, anything, but sometimes you have to take what you get.

It took a moment for Yinsen to answer. “I'm from a small town called Gulmira. It's actually a nice place.” He moved his backgammon piece.

“Got a family?” Tony asked, because he didn’t know anything about the man, and if they were going to die together, then it seemed like they should know each other better.

“Yes, and I will see them when I leave here.” He paused. “And you, Stark?”

Tony would have liked to say yes. More than anything. But Pepper and Happy would find new jobs, Rhodey honestly deserved a better friend, and Stephen . . . Stephen had probably already moved on.

“No.”

“No?”

Tony was silent.

Yinsen looked at him, appraising. “So you’re a man who has everything . . . and nothing.”

Tony stared at the game pieces.

* * *

“Go home, Stephen.”

Stephen shook his head, ignoring the way his vision blurred. “I'm fine.”

“You're not _fine_ , Stephen, you look like you're about to collapse! How long have you been awake?”

 _Forty-six hours._ “None of your business.”

“Yes it is,” she said, catching him by the arm. He was too tired to shake her off. “Look at you, you’re dead on your feet. Come on.” She lead him outside to a waiting cab. Stephen didn’t have the state of mind necessary to be annoyed. “ _Go_ , Stephen. Get some sleep. I’ll come by and check on you when my shift’s done.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” he slurred, but by then she’d shut the door and the car was moving.

Stephen didn’t remember getting out of the cab or going to his apartment. He woke up eleven hours later, lazily drifting back into consciousness. The room was cold.

He lay in bed for along time before he remembered. When he did, it was as though the color in his room dimmed. The world would not be as full with Tony gone.

When he finally managed to drag himself out of bed, he found Christine in the living room, checking her computer. Stephen started to make his way to the TV when she said, “I already checked. There hasn’t been any news. Nothing online, either.”

“I wasn’t going to look at the news,” Stephen muttered before asking, “Did Pepper—”

“Miss Potts called. She didn’t have anything new either.” Christine’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry, Stephen.”

He didn’t respond, choosing instead to settle across from her in his chair, a blanket still pulled around his shoulders. They sat in silence for almost an hour before Stephen said, “Do you think he’s dead?”

Christine stared at him. “Stephen—”

“I hope he’s dead.” His voice was cold, almost emotionless except for a slight wobble. “Better dead than whatever they’d . . . than . . .” His voice broke, followed by warm tears running down his face. “ _Oh God._ ” He covered his face with his arm, unable to keep himself from crying.

Christine ran over, wrapping her arms around her friend’s shoulders. “It’s okay, Stephen. Let it out. It’ll be okay.”

* * *

The suit, if you could even call it that, was heavy, the feet shaking the ground like a giant. But there was no harshness in Tony’s voice when he stood over the man who saved him. “Come on. We got to go. Move for me, come on. We got a plan. We're gonna stick to it.” They’d come so far, they were _so close._ If he could just hold on . . .

Yinsen breathed, his chest barely moving. “This was always the plan, Stark.”

Tony shook his head, desperate. “Come on, you're gonna go see your family. Get up.”

“My family is dead,” Yinsen told him. “I'm going to see them now, Stark.” His voice was quiet, but steady. His eyes were on the verge of shutting. “It's okay. I want this. I want this.”

Tony stared before nodding slightly. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Don’t waste it. Don't waste your life.” He breathed harshly a few times before stilling.

Tony turned away, unable to look any longer and running out of time. _I hope you find your family._ He looked at the cave exit, nerves steeling.

When their bullets deflected, he said, “My turn.”

* * *

Stephen picked up the phone immediately, one hand on the wheel of his car. He was just getting out of a long shift, and no one should have been calling him. But he recognized the ringtone. “Pepper?”

It sounded like she was crying, and he prepared himself for the worst. _At least it’s over. He won’t be in pain anymore._

But Pepper said, “They found him. Rhodey found him.”

Stephen had never been so grateful to be wrong.

* * *

“Next time, you ride with me, okay?”

Tony didn’t remember the last time he’d smiled so hard.

* * *

It was surprisingly easy to get a few weeks off work to make sure Tony was okay (although he suspected Pepper had something to do with that, and he was really starting to like the woman). Pepper arranged a plane ticket for him. He spent half the flight trying and failing to read before putting his book away and tapping his legs impatiently, unable to sleep. By the time they landed in California, he was almost ready to combust.

Happy picked him up and drove them to the airport. Pepper, sitting in the back with him, smiled. “Hey, Stephen.”

“Pepper. How are you?”

“I’m going to be better soon.”

Stephen smiled. “I think we all are.”

When the car started to move, Stephen stared out the window, remembering the last time he’d been in California, then for Tony’s birthday. _Don’t think this is going to end this way_.

They were there sooner than he thought they would be. He wondered if he should feel so . . . _ready_ to see Tony. He wanted to look at him and hold him and feel the planes of his face.

Pepper clutched his hand. “Let’s go.”

They stood in front of the plane, waiting for Tony. When they saw him, it was like the world let out a breath.

Stephen stared, soaking him in. His face was hard, revealing nothing. He walked down with Rhodey, one arm in a sling, though that didn’t stop him from wearing a suit or refusing the stretcher that was offered to him.

As he got closer, Stephen could tell that his hair had been trimmed and styled, his face cleaned. Were it not for the faint traces of cuts and bruises, a person might not realize anything had happened.

Tony came to stop in front of Stephen and Pepper. “Your eyes are red. Don’t tell me you missed me?”

Stephen laughed. “Barely even noticed you were gone.”

“I was just happy to finally stop job hunting,” Pepper said with a slight smile.

“Yeah, well vacation’s over.” He leaned slightly on Stephen as they walked to the car. Stephen let him, soaking in his warmth.

As soon as the doors were closed, Happy asked, “Where to, sir?”

Pepper said, “Take us to the hospital, please, Happy,” but Tony interrupted her.

“No.”

Pepper and Stephen stared at him. “No?” Stephen said, almost wondering if he was hallucinating. “Tony, I know it’s been a while, but surely you remember that hospitals are a _good_ thing, right?”

“Later.”

“Later?” Pepper repeated, staring at him. “No, now, a doctor has to look at you.”

“Stephen can do it later. And I don't have to do anything, I've been in captivity for three months. There are two things I _want_ to do. I want an American cheeseburger, and the other . . .”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “Yeah, go ahead and leave it there—”

“. . . is not what you think.” He looked at Pepper. “I want you to call for a press conference now.”

“Call for a press conference?”

“Yeah.”

“What on earth for?”

“Tony,” Stephen tried, “now really is not the time—”

“Hogan,” Tony said over them, “drive. Cheeseburger first.”

Pepper and Stephen shared a look. They both seemed to realize that it would be easier to let Tony get what he wanted now and do damage control later. Still . . . “At least let me look you over,” Stephen insisted. “Just to make sure there’s nothing life-threatening that we need to treat immediately.”

Tony hesitated before shrugging. “Yeah, fine. Wait until we get there, though.”

Stephen wanted to snap at him. He was worried, he had been living in constant terror that Tony would die or worse, and Tony wouldn’t even let him make sure he was okay?

But looking at him, at the tension etched into his face and back, the determination in his eyes, Stephen couldn’t bring himself to insist further. “Let’s go.”

* * *

While Pepper prepared the press conference, Stephen stood in front of Tony, checking his vitals. “Heart and breath rates are good. You’re showing some signs of long-term sleep deprivation, dehydration, and hunger, but that’s the sort of thing that’ll take a while for us to fix. I’m gonna go ahead and ask someone to get you some water.”

“Worry about it later.”

Stephen scowled, but didn’t respond. When there was nothing else for him to check, he looked at Tony’s chest hesitantly. “Can I see it?”

After a moment, Tony nodded, shrugging out of his jacket and opening the front of his shirt. Stephen stared.

Tony’s chest was a mess of angry scars, all of them coming from the silver and blue circle that dominated the muscles. “Jesus.” Stephen knew little of engineering, but he could tell that it was a complex piece of machinery. It was not long before the doctor part of his brain took over, assessing the probable damage to his heart, lungs, muscles, ribs. “This is keeping you alive?”

Tony nodded.

Still staring, Stephen reached out hesitantly, looking to Tony for permission. Once Tony nodded, he set his hand flat against the arc reactor. Tony waited for his verdict.

Stephen stared at it for a long time, expressionless, before saying, “I could have done better.”

Tony barked out a laugh, grinning. “Easily.”

Before Stephen could say anything else, someone knocked on the door. “We’re ready for you, Mister Stark.”

“We’ll be right out,” Stephen said, fixing Tony’s shirt for him. “Here,” he said, passing him the fast food bag. “Finish your burger.”

* * *

Stephen was at Tony’s side almost immediately after he was rushed off the stage, ears ringing with what he said.

_And that is why, effective immediately, I am shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Stark International until such a time as I can decide what the future of the company will be._

“Did you mean that?” he asked, leaning in close to Tony so that no one can hear what they’re talking about.

“Every word.”

Stephen looked forward so that Tony wouldn’t see the emotion on his face. A part of him was worried — such a change in Tony’s thinking after his captivity could be dangerous — but it wasn’t as though he _liked_ Tony’s job as a weapon manufacturer. If asked before, he would have said that it was one of the reasons they would never work out.

Stephen squeezed Tony’s hand. “They’re going to want more from you. Maybe more than you can give.” He tried for a smile. “Good thing you have me to help you.”

To his relief, Tony smiled back. “Thank God.”

* * *

Stephen helped him make notes about the arc reactor — size, repairs, possible improvements. He was careful to avoid the subject of Afghanistan, indulging Tony when asked to update him on everything that happened in his absence. When that subject ran out, he asked, “How did it go with Obie?” From what he could tell, Tony’s business partner did _not_ share his feelings about Tony’s change of heart. Not that it would going to stop Tony.

“Told me to lay low while he handles the company for a while.”

Stephen nodded, looking at him. He wasn’t as gaunt as Stephen might have thought. He wondered if the effects of his captivity were more mental than physical. “Tony . . . you know that I support you. But I think that before you do anything else, you should see a therapist, or—”

“Absolutely not.” Tony cut him off. “Right now, I need to focus on making up for my mistakes.”

“I understand that. No, don’t look at me like that, I do. But you’re only human, and what you’ve been through—”

“What I’ve been through? Stephen, people are dead because of me, _innocent people_ killed by the weapons I made to protect them. Nothing is more important than that.”

“That doesn’t mean nothing else is important.” He grabbed Tony’s hand. “I’m serious. You can’t do anything to help people if you don’t take care of yourself.”

“Thought that was your job?” Before Stephen could retort, he said, “Let’s focus on this first. This thing is keeping me alive, but it can do so much more than that.”

Realizing Tony wasn’t going to listen to reason anytime soon, Stephen decided to let it go. _For now._

* * *

“Stark Industries! I've got one recommendation!" The annoying man on Tv crowed. "Ready? Ready? Sell, sell, sell! Abandon ship! Does the Hindenburg ring any bells? Let me show you the new Stark Industries business plan!” He took out a baseball bat and a mug.

“How obnoxious,” Stephen drawled, startling Pepper. He smiled. “Mind coming down for a minute? We could kind of use a hand with something.”

“Um, sure,” Pepper said, setting down her computer.

“How are things going with S.I.?” Stephen asked, walking beside her to the workshop.

Pepper sighed. “Not good. A bomb would probably have been less destructive.”

“I think Tony would disagree.” There was an uncomfortable silence before Stephen said, in a lighter tone, “How about you handle the company and I’ll handle Tony. Deal?”

Pepper chuckled. “Nice to have someone to split the job with.

“Well, you got the easy part.”

“Poor you.”

“What are you two laughing about?” Tony asked, leaning back in his chair. His shirt was gone, exposing the arc reactor.

Pepper stared in fascinated horror. “Oh my _God_ , is that the thing that's keeping you alive?”

“It was. How big are your hands?”

“What?”

“Your hands, how big are they?”

Pepper held up her hands, looking back at Stephen in confusion. He shrugged in a go-with-it sort of way.

Tony nodded, satisfied. “Perfect. I need your help. Stephen, can you hand me the . . . thanks.” He held up the new arc reactor model for Pepper to see. “Time for me to upgrade. But the problem is that there is an exposed wire that needs to be taken out and I need you to do it.”

“Why me, why not Stephen?”

“My hands are too big.” He held them up with a shrug. “Sorry.” Without warning his phone rang. Stephen frowned down at the screen. “It’s Christine. I’m gonna take this, she’s probably worried. Haven’t really spoken since I left New York . . .” He left awkwardly, phone to his ear.

Tony watched him leave. “Is it just me, or is he different?” Tony had never known Stephen to be so . . . soft.

“Not just you. How do I . . .” She gestured at Tony’s chest.

“Oh, just reach in, and then you're just gonna gently lift the wire out— gently, don’t let it touch the socket wall. What do you think it is?”

“What, about Stephen?” Pepper’s eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she lifted the wire. “Are you kidding? That man has been going through hell since you were taken. He called me at _least_ three times a week for updates, he’s barely done anything but work because he couldn’t _do_ anything else, and the very _instant_ he knew you were okay, he came to see you. He’s not here because he wants something, Tony. He just cares about you— shit, sorry!”

Tony winced as the wire bumped against the socket. “Yeah, it’s fine, just—”

“Oh my God, is that _pus_?”

“No, it’s an inorganic plasmic discharge from the device.”

“It _smells_.”

“Yeah.”

* * *

Stephen and Tony sat at the worktable in silence. He could tell that the meeting with Rhodey had not gone well. Tony hadn’t even spoken since coming home.

Stephen was about to suggest they get dinner when Tony started typing on his computer, saying, “Jarvis, open a new project file, index as Mark Two.”

“Shall I store this on the Stark Industries Central Database?”

“Actually, that might not be the best idea. ‘Til further notice, why don't we just keep everything on my private server?”

Stephen looked over curiously. “What are you working on?” Hovering over the table was a sparking blue hologram in the shape of a metal man.

Tony stared at the hologram. “Did I tell you how I escaped?”

* * *

Stephen leaned over the plans, chewing on his lip. “It’s going to be difficult to accommodate for body size while making it as streamlined as possible, not to mention providing shock absorption and making sure your body is stable within the suit.” He looked over at Tony to get his opinion, starting when he realized Tony was staring at him with a small smile. “What?”

“Nothing,” Tony said, leaning closer and looking over his shoulder. “It’s just nice. Doing this together. It’s nice, right?”

Stephen cautiously smiled. “Yeah. It’s nice.” He still thought Tony needed to see someone, a therapist, not to mention a cardio doctor. But that was something he would have to ease into or else Tony would shut him down immediately. “Any ideas for this?”

* * *

“Stephie, are we ready?”

Stephen ignored him, looking down at the spreadsheet he’d made recording Tony’s vitals. “Heart’s good, breath’s good, reflexes are good, first aid is ready if necessary. Go ahead, but take it easy.”

“No problem. DUM-E, you're on for fire safety. U, roll it. Okay. Activate hand controls.”

Stephen watched him, hands tightening unconsciously around the laptop.

“We're gonna start off nice and easy. We're gonna see if ten percent thrust capacity achieves lift. And three, two, one—” Immediately, he went flying, going so fast he turned upside down and smacking the wall face first. Without missing a beat, DUM-E sprayed him with a fire hydrant.

With a shriek that he would deny if questioned, Stephen ran over to him. “Tony!”

“I’m okay!” Tony shouted back, sitting up on his hands. “I am _okay_!”

Stephen sighed, a hand over his chest. “Don’t _do_ that!”

“Trying not to.”

* * *

“Did you turn the power down?”

“Yes, dear,” Tony teased, fixing the gauntlet around his arm. “Are you recording?”

“Unfortunately,” Stephen said, mentally preparing himself to see Tony thrown back again.

“Why are you trying to ruin my mood?”

“Just try to land on the mattress this time.”

“Party pooper.” Before he could start the gauntlet stabilizer, the workshop door opened, and Pepper breezed in.

“Tony, I've been buzzing you. Did you hear the intercom?”

Tony half-nodded. “Yeah, we’ve just been kind of busy . . .” He noticed the look on Pepper’s face. “What?”

“Obadiah's upstairs.”

“Whatever it is, Stephen did it.”

Stephen scoffed. “You little—”

Pepper cut him off. “Tony, what would you like me to tell him?”

“That I'll be right up,” Tony said, raising his arm and aiming.

Pepper watched him with a look between confusion and distaste. “Okay. I thought you said you were done making weapons?”

“I am. _This_ is a flight stabilizer. It's completely harmless.” He turned the stabilizer on, immediately flying backwards and crashing into a wall. “I didn't expect that.”

Stephen sighed. “ _Mattress_ , Tony!”

“I tried!”

* * *

After Stephen checked Tony over, they went upstairs to join Pepper and Obadiah. As soon as they were in the living room, Tony asked, “How'd it go?” He caught sight of the pizza box Obadiah was holding. “That bad, huh?”

“Just because I brought pizza back from New York doesn't mean it went bad,” Obadiah tried, not selling it at all.

“Sure it doesn’t. Stephen, get a plate.”

“Oh, this is the good stuff,” Stephen said, ignoring Obadiah, who did not like him and who he didn’t like.

Obadiah ignored him in return, telling Tony, “It would have gone better if you were there.”

“Hey, you told me to lay low, okay? That's what we've been doing. _I_ lay low, and you take care of all . . .” He gestured with his pizza slice before taking a bite.

“Yeah, lay low, in _public_. The _press_. This was a board of directors meeting.”

Tony frowned in confusion. “This was a board of directors meeting?”

“Why didn’t they tell Tony about that?” Stephen asked. “We didn’t hear anything about it.”

Obadiah ignored his question, speaking to Tony while Stephen rolled his eyes in annoyance. “The board is claiming you have posttraumatic stress. They're filing an injunction.”

“A what?” Tony demanded, shocked rather than confused.

“They want to lock you out,” Obadiah explained, too calmly in Stephen’s opinion.

“Are you serious?” Stephen asked, looking to Tony. He was starting to get upset now, not that he blamed him. He was getting pissed off too.

“Why?” Tony asked heatedly. “‘Cause the stocks dipped forty points? We knew that was gonna happen.”

“Fifty-six and a half,” Obadiah muttered.

“It doesn't _matter_. _We_ own the controlling interest in the company, everyone else can fuck off.”

“Tony, the board has rights, too,” Obadiah pointed out, not unreasonably Stephen was forced to admit. “They're making the case that you and your new direction isn't in the company's best interest.”

“I'm _being_ responsible!” Tony said, almost shouting. “That's a new direction, for me, for the company. I mean, me on the company's behalf being responsible for the way that . . .” Angry, Tony stood to leave. “This is great. This is _fucking_ fantastic!”

“Oh, come on, Tony,” Obadiah said, sighing as Tony left. “Tony!”

“I'll be in the shop.”

“Do you want me to join you?” Stephen asked, leaning forward.

“Please do.”

As Stephen stood to follow Tony, Obadiah shot up and forward, grabbing Tony by the arm. “Hey! Hey, Tony. Listen. I'm trying to turn this thing around, but you gotta give me something. Something to pitch them. Let me have the engineers analyze _that_ ,” he said, gesturing to Tony’s chest. Tony covered it defensively at the same time that Stephen stood by his side, putting himself slightly in front of Tony. Obadiah continued without acknowledging them. “You know, just draw up some specs.”

“No,” Tony said, shaking his head. “No, absolutely not.”

“It'll give me a bone to throw the boys in New York!”

“This one stays with me, Obie. Forget it.”

“All right, well, this stays with me, then,” Obadiah said, taking the pizza box from the table. Before Stephen and Tony could leave, he stopped them. “Go on, here, you can have a piece. Take two.”

“Thank you.”

“You mind if I come down there and see what you're doing?” Obadiah asked, still pushing.

“Good _night_ , Obie.”

* * *

“How are you doing over there, Stephen?”

Stephen sighed, looking to the bedroom door. “I have no idea what I’m doing, Christine.”

Over the phone, Christine paused. “Do you think you could repeat that? I swear I’m not recording.”

“I’m serious, Christine.” He was sitting in the ensuite bathtub, telling himself he wasn’t hiding while Tony slept. _Tries to sleep._ God knew the man usually just stared at the ceiling for an hour or so before getting back up, only actually sleeping when his body couldn’t take it anymore. “Tony is . . . I don’t know. He’s not doing well.”

“Did you think he would be? Guy just got back from being held _captive_ for _three months_.”

“I know, _I know._ I just . . . don’t know how to help him.”

Christine made a noncommittal sound before asking, “What about this thing with his company? To just . . . up and quit making weapons after all these years? What do you think about that?”

“I understand where he’s coming from. And it’s not like I _disagree_ with him — I always hated his company. Honestly, I’m glad to see that part gone. But it’s deeper than that. I’m worried about him.”

“Tell him that.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “Nice try, Christine.”

“What’s wrong with my idea?”

“ _You_ try having a conversation with Tony about his obvious mental health issues.”

“Well, I’m not you.”

Stephen couldn’t help but smile. “No, I guess not.”

* * *

“Okay,” Tony said, standing in the center of the garage with the reworked gauntlets and boots on. “Day 11, test 37, configuration 2.0. For lack of a better option, Dum-E is still on fire safety.” He looked at the bot, holding up a fire extinguisher eagerly. “If you douse me again, and I'm not on fire, I'm donating you to a city college. And Stephen is on medical standby in case I hit a wall again.”

“Please don’t.”

“Trying not to. All right, let’s start nice and easy. Seriously, one percent thrust capacity. Got it?” Tony took a deep breath, readying himself. His arms stretched out to level his palms with the ground as Stephen leaned forward, nervous. “And three, two, one—” The flight stabilizers in the hands and boots turned on, streaming white light as they lifted Tony off the ground.

Stephen watched, terrified, but Tony didn’t fall. He hovered a foot off the ground, looking around with wide eyes. Stephen let out a breath of relief when he landed on his feet.

“Okay,” Tony said, clearly as relieved at him. In fact, Dum-E was the only one who was disappointed, still carrying the fire extinguisher. “Please don't follow me around with it, either, 'cause I feel like I'm gonna catch on fire spontaneously.”

Dum-E lowered, heartbroken.

Tony sighed. “Just stand down, if something happens, then come in. And again, let's bring it up to 2.5.”

“You don’t want to take a break—”

“Nope, three, two, one—” Tony lifted off the ground, higher this time, but going off in different directions with little control. “Woah!”

“Over the mattresses, Tony!”

“I know!” he shouted, looking around as he flew backwards before going over the line of cars. “Okay, this is where I don't want to be!”

“Tony, just—”

“Not the car, not the car!” He managed to get farther away before veering over the tables. “Table!” He lifted a hand in front of himself, seeming genuinely surprised when he started to go backwards. “Could be worse! Could be worse! We're fine!” He steered himself back towards the middle of the room near Stephen, bringing his arms in line and gradually lowering, bringing himself to a full start on the ground. “Okay.”

Stephen stared, stunned that had gone so well. “That was amazing—”

“No!” They both shouted at Dum-E, who was watching with interest before turning away again in dejection.

Tony breathed, looking at Stephen. “You can fly,” Stephen breathed, staring at him.

Tony’s eyes were wide. Stephen could tell his pulse was racing from there. He nodded to himself. “Yeah, I can fly.”

* * *

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Stephen asked, more nervous than he would like to admit.

“Nope, let’s do it.” Without waiting, he stepped into position for the bots to put the complete suit on him, sheathing him in silver metal. When it was done, he was completely unrecognizable, even his eyes replaced by rectangles of bright blue light. “Jarvis, are you there?”

“At your service, sir,” the voice sounded, both in the room and the suit.

“Engage Heads Up Display.”

“Check.”

“Import all preferences from home interface.”

“Will do, sir.”

Tony walked around, taking in his surroundings through the view of the suit, with added information for everything, from the cars to himself.

Stephen watched, his brows drawn together with curiosity. “What’s it like?”

Tony looked at him. “Awesome.”

Stephen laughed despite himself, making Tony smile in return, though he couldn’t see it.

“All right, Jarvis, what do you say?

“I have indeed been uploaded, sir. We're online and ready.” They ran through a few more tests before Jarvis said, “Preparing to power down and begin diagnostics.”

Tony stopped him, an idea forming. One Stephen was not going to like. “Uh, yeah, tell you what. Do a weather and ATC check, start listening in on ground control.”

“Tony, what are you doing—”

“Sir, there are still terabytes of calculations needed before an actual flight is—”

“Flight?”

“You two are no fun,” Tony said. “Don’t you know that sometimes you got to run before you can walk.”

“Tony, _that’s not how development works, do NOT do what I think you’re doing_ —”

“Ready? In three, two, one.” Tony lifted off, first only a few feet, but then he ignored Stephen completely, maneuvering until he was almost parallel to the ground and shooting forward, flying out of the spiraling garage.

“ _TONY!_ ”

“I’ll be back in time for dinner!” Tony shouted back, not entirely sure Stephen heard him. It didn’t matter. Tony was shouting with delight, amazed by how fast he was going, how free and weightless he felt, at times barely even in control of himself, but always coming back. “Handles like a dream!” He flew over the city, watching the lights and buildings pass by, focusing in on specific spots curiously, before straightening and shooting upwards. “All right, let's see what this thing can do. What's SR-71's record?”

“The altitude record for fixed wing flight is 85,000 feet, sir.”

“Records are made to be broken, _come on!_ ”

A clinking sound started coming from the suit.

“Sir, there is a potentially fatal buildup of ice occurring,” Jarvis warned, and indeed, he could see the frost buildup over his vision.

Tony ignored it. “Keep going!” He could feel the suit getting heavier. “Higher!” He was caked in ice, weighing him down and messing with the suit’s functions. The screen shorted out, and he realized that the flight stabilizers had shut off.

_Fuck._

He started to fall, wildly waving his arms in legs, desperately fighting for control. “ _We iced up, Jarvis! Deploy flaps!_ ” There was no answer except the wind whirling at his ears. He couldn’t see anything. All the screens were gone, and the only thing visible to him were the stars outside of the eyespots. “ _Jarvis! Come on, we got to break the ice!_ ” His hands scrambled around the suit before managing to deploy the flaps manually, breaking some of the ice and returning power to him as he leveled out. Finally the power returned, systems flashing past his eyes, returning his view just in time for him to turn sharply off the ground and back into the air. “ _Yeah!_ ” _Oh, thank God, Stephen would kill me if I died._

Deciding not to take any more risks, he set his sight back on the mansion, returning home in record time. He hovered over the roof of the garage, balancing himself. “Kill power.”

. . .

So, apparently the roof was _not_ built to take hundreds of pounds of metal suddenly dropping on it. That might have been good to know before he fell through three floors, destroying a piano ( _Sorry, Stephen_ ) and one of his favorite cars.

_Go figure— Oh, goddamit Dum-E!_

“ANTHONY!”

 _Oh no_ , Tony thought, sitting up through the bruises and fire extinguisher foam. “Now I know I’m in trouble,” he said, removing the faceplate. “You only call me that when you’re mad or when we’re having sex.” A beat passed. “Are we about to have sex?” After looking at Stephen, he said, “I take it back!”

Stephen stood over him, hands shaking with anger. “Do not _ever_ do that again! Christ, Tony, you could have died!”

“I was never going to die!”

“Well sir, you did come close due to the icing problem—”

“Now is not the time, Jarvis!” Tony hissed, wincing at the look on Stephen’s face.

“Icing problem?” Stephen demanded.

Tony sighed, trying to give Jarvis a dirty look, but it didn’t work since there was nothing for him to look at. “It wasn’t a big deal—”

“What do you think it would be like for me if you died? For Pepper? Rhodey? For all of us after we spent _three months_ certain you were gone or worse? Do you think we could handle that? That _I_ could?”

Tony stared at him. “Stephen . . .”

Stephen growled, whipping around and walking away. “Forget it,” he said, heading for the stairs. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I’m sorry!”

Stephen did not acknowledge him.

“Stephen, I’m sorry, okay! I didn’t think! Please, just— I need you.”

Stephen stopped short of the door, though he still didn’t look at Tony.

“I . . . need you. This is all a lot, and I’m barely holding on, and I’m doing that by just . . . looking ahead and not thinking about what’s behind me. But I wasn’t thinking about you, and I should have, because you have done nothing but think about me since you got here. But I can try, and I will try, because I can’t do this without you.”

For a while, Stephen didn’t respond. Finally, he turned the slightest bit, just enough that Tony could see part of his eye. “I’ll run you a bath. Your muscles are probably sore.”

Tony smiled. “Gonna join me?”

“Don’t push it.”

* * *

The next night, TV thrumming in the background, Stephen sat reading one of his medical journals while Tony worked with Jarvis, tapping his fingers against the case that Pepper had put the old reactor in. Stephen was still annoyed, but not as upset as he had been. Tony counted it as a win.

“Jarvis, notes. Main transducer feels sluggish at plus-forty altitude. Hull pressurization is problematic. I'm thinking icing is the probable factor.”

“A very astute observation, sir.”

Stephen snorted.

“Perhaps, if you intend to visit other planets, we should improve the exosystems.”

“If you two could stop.”

“No,” Stephen said without looking up.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “J, connect to the system again. I want to reconfigure the shell metals. Use the gold titanium alloy from the seraphim tactical satellite. That should ensure a fuselage integrity while maintaining power-to-weight ratio. Got it?”

“Yes. Shall I render using proposed specifications?”

“Thrill me.” Tony looked up for a bit, stopping when he saw what was on the TV. “Stephen, can you turn that up?”

Stephen did so, apparently not noticing anything. He did start when he heard Tony’s name— “Tony Stark's third annual benefit for the Firefighter's Family Fund is being held right here at the Disney Concert Hall, having become the place to be for L.A.'s high society.”

“Jarvis,” Tony started, “we get an invite for that?”

“I have no record of an invitation, sir.”

“Not invited to your own party?” Stephen asked with an arched brow. “How the mighty are fallen.” But he was as concerned as Tony, watching the TV with the sort of rapt attention he rarely spared on anyone.

“. . . Stark hasn't been seen in public since his bizarre and highly controversial press conference. Some claim he's suffering from posttraumatic stress and has been bedridden for weeks. Whatever the case may be, no one expects an appearance from him tonight.”

“Well that’s just rude,” Stephen said, fingers loosing holding onto his papers.

Before they could talk about it, Jarvis chimed, “The render is complete.” A screen showed the new version of the suit, its shell colored bright gold.

“A little ostentatious, don't you think?” Tony asked, looking to Stephen for his opinion.

Stephen shrugged. “Kind of gaudy.”

“What was I thinking, sir? You're usually so discreet.”

“That’s neither here nor there.” Tony looked around the room, inspiration coming when he saw one of his cars, a bright red convertible that Stephen favored. “Tell you what. Throw a little hot-rod red in there.”

“Yes, that should help you keep a low profile.”

“Took the words right out of my head, Jarvis,” Stephen said with a slight smile.

“You two are a menace.”

“I like to think of us as a team. Jarvis, what do you think.”

The A.I. chose not to answer him. “The render is complete.”

Tony looked at the new version. The body, hands, calves, and most of the head were read, with gold over the rest and the blue of the arc reactor in the center of the chest. “Hey, I like it. Fabricate it. Paint it.”

“Commencing automated assembly. Estimated completion time is five hours.”

Tony leaned back, looking at the TV. “Sounds like we have some time.” He turned to Stephen. “Feel like going to a party?”

* * *

Happy drove them to the benefit, winding through the streets of LA. Tony and Stephen sat in the back of the car, a partition separating them and Happy. Stephen was wearing a soft, dark-blue suit that he’d thrown into his suitcase on the off-chance he might need it. Tony looked at him fondly, eyes trailing over him, admiring his slender body and long legs. “Last time we went to a party when you wore that, we didn’t make it.”

Stephen recalled the memory, dipping his head to chuckle. “Happy had to get out of the car.”

“Hey, I gave him a bonus. And we could have made it to the party.”

“We could have. And we could have gone with wild hair and red faces and messed up clothes.”

“Sounds like a party.”

Stephen laughed just as Happy pulled up to the concert hall. Tony opened the door for him. “Such a gentleman.”

Tony smiled, wrapping an arm around Stephen’s waist and leading him through the crowd. Around the building were dozens of people in evening dress, along with reporters and photographers. They could see Obadiah giving an interview, saying, “Weapons manufacturing is only one small part of what Stark Industries is all about, and our partnership with the fire and rescue community. . .”

Stephen and Tony strolled up to the building, ignoring the questions shouted at them. One woman came up to them, saying, “Hey, Tony, remember me?”

“Sure don't,” Tony said, turning to Stephen. “Nothing to me.”

“Most people are,” Stephen said evenly, smiling for the people around them.

“Well, you’re special.” They came up on Obadiah, who was finishing off his speech with a reassurance about the company’s quarter. “Hey,” Tony said, clapping him on the shoulder. “What's the world coming to when a guy's got to crash his own party?”

Obadiah turned to face them with a wide smile, slinging an arm around Tony’s shoulder. “Hey! Look at you two!”

“We'll see you inside, Obie,” Tony said, shrugging out of Obadiah’s hold.

Obadiah stopped him. “Hey,” he said, voice quiet, “take it slow, all right? I think I got the board right where we want them.”

Finally, Tony returned his smile. “You got it. Just cabin fever. We'll just be a minute.”

They managed to get away from Obadiah, which Stephen welcomed. “I can’t stand that man.”

“What’s wrong with Obie?” Tony asked, making his way to the bar.

“He’s always in everyone’s space. He’s . . . _slimey_.”

“Well, now you’re just being prejudiced. Give me a Scotch. I'm starving. You want anything?”

Before Stephen could answer, a man appeared behind Tony. “Mr. Stark?”

Tony looked at the man. “Yeah?”

“Agent Coulson.”

“Oh,” Tiny said with a hint of recognition, “yeah, yeah, the guy from the . . .”

“Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.”

“I think I fell asleep while you said that,” Stephen said dully.

“Yeah, I hear that a lot. Stark, I know this must be a trying time for you, but we need to debrief you. There's still a lot of unanswered questions, and time can be a factor with these things.”

Tony wasn’t looking at him anymore, “Yeah, okay. Let's just . . . put something on the books. How about the 24th at 7:00 p.m. at Stark Industries? I’ll have my assistant schedule it.” He started to walk away, pulling Stephen with him. “Do you want to dance? Let’s dance.”

They left Coulson behind, the agent awkwardly starting to say something before stopping. Tony drew Stephen to the dance floor, one hand on his waist and another on his shoulder. “See? This is nice.”

“I’m going to have to remind you to actually talk to Pepper, huh?” Stephen asked, looking around. He seemed more controlled then usual, not allowing any emotion to pass over his face.

“Probably. You okay?”

Stephen’s eyes passed over the room, his voice lowering. “People are watching us.” Between Tony's notoriety, the on-again off-again nature of their relationship, and the fact that Stephen was ten years younger than him, they were no strangers to rumors. But this felt different.

“So?” Tony asked.

Stephen made a frustrated noise, holding Tony’s gaze with his hard blue-green eyes. “It's one thing for you to . . . date a man behind closed doors. Parties, private dinners, sex. Those don’t matter, don’t last, especially not with you.”

“And this will?” Tony asked softly.

Stephen shut up, clenching his jaw.

“It could,” Tony offered. “I think it could.”

“It hasn’t in the past.”

“Yeah. But things are different now. Right? They’re different?”

Stephen lost himself in thought for a moment, looking past Tony. “I always missed you. If I didn't, I would never come back.”

“You don't come back, though. I did. I'm always the one who chases after you.”

And while Stephen hated to admit it, Tony wasn't wrong. He was always the one leaving, and Tony was always the run who ended up running after him. “Well then I always let you catch me.” Stephen’s eyes had softened. Thinking quickly, he leaned forward, placing a kiss along Tony’s jaw. He was certain people saw him. He didn’t care. “I won't leave this time.”

They stared at each other for a moment, barely dancing anymore. Tony said, “Do you want to take a break?”

“God, yes,” Stephen said, clearly relieved. “That got kind of intense.”

“Yeah, yeah. Do you want me to get you a drink?”

“Please.”

“Martini?”

“Extra olives.”

Ignoring the looks they got, Stephen left to find a place to stand while Tony went back to the bar. “Two vodka martinis, extra olives. Make one of them dirty, will you?”

“Wow.” A blonde woman was behind him, seeming incredibly unimpressed. “Tony Stark.”

Tony frowned. “Hi. Do I know you?”

“Christine Everhart. We met briefly in Vegas, few months ago. I’m a reporter.”

“Oh. Well, I don’t really care . . . Carrie?”

“Christine.”

“That's right. You know there’s another Christine who likes me about as much as you seem to . . .”

“Hm. You have a lot of nerve showing up here tonight. Can I at least get a reaction from you?”

Tony stared at her, genuinely confused. “. . . Are you pregnant? Because I could _swear_ that I was with Stephen around then.”

“I was referring to your company's involvement in this latest atrocity.”

“Yeah, I know, the hors d'oeuvres are terrible. But you know, they just put my name on the invitation, so—”

“Is this what you call accountability?” Everhart demanded, pulling out a packet of pictures.

“I don’t—” Tony stopped, looking down at the pictures. “What is this?”

“It's a town called Gulmira. Heard of it?”

_“I'm from a small town called Gulmira. It's actually a nice place.”_

_“Got a family?”_

_“Yes, and I will see them when I leave here.”_

“When were these taken?” Tony asked, feeling his lungs tighten. If he wasn’t careful, he wouldn’t be able to breathe. _Stephen’ll have a fit._ He thought he might laugh, and if he started laughing, he might not be able to stop until they dragged him out.

“Yesterday.”

“I didn't approve any shipment.”

“Well, your company did.”

Tony looked at her. “I'm not my company.”

* * *

Tony abandoned the bar to search for Stephen, immediately grabbing him by the shoulder. “C’mon, we need to find Obie.”

“What?” Stephen stumbled after him before regaining control. “What happened?”

“The Ten Rings got more of my weapons.”

“What? How?”

“I think I have an idea.” They found Obie outside again. “Wait here.” He ran towards Obadiah, turning him away from the reporters he was speaking to. “Please, do you mind?” He leaned into his old friend, showing him the pictures Everhart had given him. “Have you seen these pictures?” he asked quietly. “What's going on in Gulmira?”

Obadiah shook his head. “Tony, Tony.” He was leaning into Tony’s space, an arm around his shoulders. “You can't afford to be this naive.”

“You know what? I _was_ naive before, when they said, ‘Here's the line. We don't cross it. This is how we do business.’ If we're double-dealing under the table . . .” He stared. “Are we?”

Around them, photographers called out for their attention. Smiling, Obadiah turned in their direction, maneuvering Tony with him. “Tony,” Obadiah said quietly in the same friendly voice as always. “Who do you think locked you out?”

Tony stopped moving, feeling his lungs tighten for the second time that night. He remembered what it was like to be held under water, cold liquid filling his lungs.

He thought he might prefer that.

“I was the one who filed the injunction against you,” Obadiah said with a shrug. “It was the only way I could protect you.” Having satisfied the reporters, Obadiah gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder before walking away, leaving Tony staring after him, alone.

* * *

They drove back to the mansion in silence. Stephen tried to get Tony to tell him what happened, but he was sealed up, refusing to speak. When they got home, Tony left immediately to the workshop, saying, “I’ll see you later.” He shut the door after him, not letting Stephen through.

“Tony!” Stephen tried to get him to come out, but gave up when it became clear that Tony wasn’t opening up anytime soon. Not knowing what to do, he went upstairs, peeling his clothes off for a shower. He spent a long time standing under the water, head pressed to the wall. _What’s going on in your head, Tony?_ He wanted to help, but he had no idea what he was doing, and he hated that. He was supposed to be smart, put-together, but he didn’t even know what to do for his boyfriend. _Useless_ , he thought hatefully. _Fucking useless._

Realizing he’d been in the shower for over an hour, he finished bathing and got out, wrapping a towel around his waist. He stopped in his tracks when he walked into the bedroom. “Tony?”

Tony was standing in the doorway, having abandoned his suit for a tank top and jeans, a gauntlet over one arm. Stephen could see the glow of the arc reactor through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Are you alright?”

Tony was looking down. His eyes were dark. “I have to go. I have to go somewhere, but I told you that I would try, so I’m here telling you so you know.”

Stephen looked at him. The lines of his face were hard. He was clenching his hand shut, apparently without realizing.

Slowly, Stephen asked, “Are you going to be alright?”

“I will be. But I need to go. I need . . . to make this right, or try to.”

It took a moment for Stephen to nod. “Okay. Okay. But promise that . . . you’ll come back. Preferably in one piece.”

“I will. Promise.”

They stood in silence. Stephen thought he should do something — help somehow, kiss him, tell him good luck or demand that he stay — but then Tony was leaving.

* * *

There was smoke in the air, on his tongue. He tasted ash and death. He could still hear the ringing on explosions in his ears.

Tony dropped the last terrorist in front of a group of villagers. “He's all yours.”

* * *

By the time Tony got back, it was the next morning and Stephen had already tried to eat breakfast before giving up and settling for half a pot of coffee.

“Doctor Strange,” Jarvis said, “Sir has returned.”

Stephen shot up. “What?”

“He’s in the workshop. He’s requested your presence.”

Stephen dropped his mug. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, running down to the workshop. He could hear Tony before he went in—

“Hey!”

“It is a tight fit, sir. The more you struggle, the more this is going to hurt.”

“Be gentle,” Tony said as Stephen entered. “This is my first time.” The bots were trying to remove the suit from him. The helmet was already gone, but they seemed to be having trouble with the rest. “I designed this to come off, so . . .”

“Tony,” Stephen said, stunned. “Are you alright?”

Tony twisted around, trying to see him. “Oh, hey. Yeah, yeah, I’m just kind of . . . stuck. Perfectly fixable—”

“What's going on here?”

Both of them turned to look at Pepper. “Uh . . .” Stephen began before realizing he didn’t have anything to say. “Tony?”

Tony looked at Stephen, then Pepper, then down at the suit, before finally looking at Pepper again. “Let's face it, this is not the worst thing you've caught us doing.”

Pepper stared at him in horror. “Are those bullet holes?”

“I’m sorry, _bullets?_ ” Stephen demanded, noticing it for the first time. “You said you would be safe!”

“I was, I’m perfectly fine, the armor took all of it!”

“Who tried to hurt you?” Pepper asked, running into the room to stand in front of him, eyes moving over the suit and bots. Stephen followed her.

Tony tried to shrug, immediately wincing. “Um, terrorists, some military people.”

“ _Military?_ ” Stephen asked. “ _U.S._ military?”

“Don’t worry, Rhodey stopped them.”

Stephen laughed, close to hysterical. “Oh, well thank God!”

“To be fair, I didn’t know they were going to get involved! Before that, it was just the terrorists, and they were completely incompetent.”

Stephen wondered if it was too early to go to bed.

* * *

Later, after they’d gotten Tony out of the armor and Stephen had checked him for injuries, Tony explained what he’d learned from Obadiah.

“I _knew_ there was something up with that asshole!” Stephen said.

“Yes, you were right, you’re always right, don’t rub it in. But now I know what I need to do.” He turned to Pepper. “Pep, you mind helping me out?”

“How?” Pepper asked, already sounding incredibly tired.

“I need you to go to my office. You're going to hack into the mainframe and retrieve all the recent shipping manifests.” He handed her something. “This is a lock chip. It'll get you in. They’ll probably under Executive Files. If not, they put it on a ghost drive, in which case you need to look for the lowest numeric heading.”

“And what do you plan to do with this information if I bring it back here?” Pepper asked, pinning him with her gaze.

“Same drill. They've been dealing under the table, and I'm going to stop them. I'm going to find my weapons and destroy them.”

“Tony,” Pepper said, shaking her head lightly, “you know that I would help you with anything, but I cannot help you if you're going to start all of this again.”

Tony stared at her. “There is _nothing_ except this. There's no art opening. There is no benefit. There is nothing to sign. There is the next mission and nothing else.”

“Is that so?” Pepper stood, hands flat on the table. “Well, then, I quit.”

Stephen had never seen that look on his face — that cold, hard anger. He didn’t want to ever see it again. “You stood by my side all these years while I reaped the benefits of destruction. And now that I'm trying to protect the people that _I_ put in harm's way, you're going to walk out?”

“You're going to kill yourself, Tony.” She didn’t even sound angry. Rather like she was stating a fact. “I'm not going to be a part of it.”

“Tony,” Stephen said before the other man could speak, “she’s right.”

Tony looked at him. “You too?”

“Tony . . .” Stephen said, looking up at him. “I support you. You know I do. But you have to see what this is doing to you. I don’t want you to tear yourself apart.”

Tony shook his head, eyes trained on the cold table. “I shouldn't be alive, unless it was for a reason.” His voice grew quieter, more calm. “I'm not crazy, and I’m not . . . suicidal, whatever you think. I just . . . finally know what I have to do. And I _know_ in my heart that it's right.”

Pepper sighed, looking away. When she looked back, she had the slightest hint of a smile. “Fine. For you. But don’t go looking for danger.”

“It usually finds me.”

Pepper looked like she might hug him, but decided against it, leaving to S.I. When she was gone, Stephen sat next to Tony, resting his head on his hand. “What do we do know?”

Tony made a thoughtful sound, not facing him. “I don’t know who to trust right now, apart from you guys and Rhodey. I don’t even know if it’s safe here, anymore.”

Stephen stood, taking Tony’s hand. “What should I do?”

Tony moved Stephen’s hand to his hair, nuzzling him before looking up. “I want you to go to Rhodey. He’ll keep you safe.”

Immediately, Stephen snatched his hand away. “How dare you? I’m not a child that you can ground, if I want to stay right here—”

“Stephen, please. Pepper is going to S.I. She’ll be safe there. You can’t go there, can’t go anywhere else, it’ll be too suspicious. And I can’t let anything happen to you. I need to keep you safe. If I lose you—” He cut himself off and looked away, his eyes shut. “Please, for me, go with Rhodey.”

Stephen watched him, eyes slowly softening. He brushed his fingers through Tony’s hair. “Promise me you won’t go looking for trouble.”

“Cross my heart.”

Stephen bent down, kissing his temple. His voice was almost a whisper. “I never realized how much I loved you until you were gone.”

Tony started, looking up at him, but Stephen left without waiting for a response.

* * *

A sharp pain in the back of his neck. Tony started to shout, but his throat wouldn’t move. In the background, he could hear someone calling his phone. _“Tony? Tony, are you there? Hello?”_ Pepper. Oh God, Pepper.

His limbs fell slack against the couch as Obadiah stood behind him, helping lower his head, “Breathe,” he said, “Easy.” He held up his device, one Tony recognized. His voice was low, but never lost its familiarity. “You remember this one, right? It's a shame the government didn't approve it. There's so many applications for causing short-term paralysis.” He sighed, but he wasn’t upset. Rather, he sounded almost delighted.

“Tony.” Beside him on the floor was a case. He opened it, pulling out something that Tony realized, with a numb sort of fear, was an extractor. “When I ordered the hit on you, I worried that I was killing the golden goose.” Obadiah leaned over him, resting one foot on the couch for leverage, as he fit the extractor over Tony’s chest.

_No._

“But, you see, it was just—” the machine cut through his shirt, sinking into the casing. Tony gasped, pain thrumming through his chest, like acid in his veins. “—Fate that you survived that.” With a simple twist of his hand, Obadiah forced the arc reactor out of his chest. Tony stared at it, unable to do anything — yell, run, _fight_ — to save himself. “You had one last golden egg to give.”

Obadiah stared down at him, setting one hand on the back of the couch so that he was leaning into Tony’s space, leaving barely any room for him to breathe. _Not that it’ll matter soon._ “Do you really think that just because you have an idea, it belongs to you? Your father, he helped give us the atomic bomb. Now, what kind of world would it be today if he was as selfish as you?” He jerked the wires out of the casing, fully cutting the arc reactor off. Tony jerked in shock and pain.

“Oh, it's beautiful.” His voice was soft. A whisper. “Tony, this is your Ninth Symphony. What a masterpiece.” He sat down next to Tony, holding it up to admire. “Look at that. This is your legacy. A new generation of weapons with _this_ at its heart. Weapons that will help steer the world back on course, put the balance of power in our hands. The right hands.”

Tony thought he might scream.

Chuckling, Obadiah picked the case back up, setting the arc reactor in it. “I wish you could've seen my prototype. It's not as . . . well, not as _conservative_ as yours. Too bad you had to involve your little friends in this. It would have been less work if they lived.” Shaking his head slightly, Obadiah stood with the case and left, never looking back at Tony.

_Pepper. Rhodey. Stephen._

Tony stared at Obadiah’s retreating back. _Thank you_ , he thought, forcing himself to move. _I needed that._

* * *

“What do you mean, he—” Rhodey cut himself off, seeing Stephen.

Actually, that might have made him more worried. “What?” Stephen asked, standing up. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know, Pepper said something’s going on with Obadiah.” He returned to the phone. “Pepper, slow down. Why would Obadiah— where's Tony now?”

“I don't know,” Pepper said, her voice carefully controlled. “He's not answering his phone. Please, go over there and make sure everything's okay.”

“You got it.” He hung up, grabbing his jacket before telling Stephen, “Stay here.”

“What’s going on?”

Rhodey was in such a hurry, he didn’t think to censor himself. “Pepper thinks Tony might be in danger, I have to go check on him.”

Stephen’s eyes were wide with fear and anger. “Like fuck I’m staying here, let’s go.”

“Tony wanted you to stay safe, you were fine with it then.”

“That’s when I thought he was being paranoid. I’m not going to just sit here when he could be in danger.” He breezed past Rhodey out the door. “Coming?”

* * *

Lying on the floor of his workshop, pain beating through his chest, Tony breathed and looked up at Dum-E, proudly holding up the old arc reactor. “Good boy.”

* * *

“Tony?” Rhodey and Stephen called, walking through the mansion, Stephen close to running. “Tony? Tony? Tony?” They made it to the workshop. Stephen sucked in a breath, seeing Tony lying on the ground, surrounded by broken glass. “Tony!” They both ran to him, one on each side.

Stephen let out the briefest sigh of relief when he saw Tony was conscious, deathly pale and with a hole in his shirt, but alive. “You okay?”

Tony looked up at them, his voice hoarse and pained. “Where's Pepper?”

“She's fine,” Rhodey explained. “She's with five agents. They're about to arrest Obadiah.”

Tony shook his head. His eyes were burning with anger. “That's not going to be enough. Stephen,” he started to pull himself up, “help me to the suit.”

Stephen hated it, more than he’d hated anything in a long time, but he knew he couldn’t, _shouldn’t_ , stop him. “Come on.”

It took a minute for Tony to be able to stand properly on his own — long enough for the bots to get the suit ready. In moments, he was encased in it. Rhodey watched, awed. “That's the coolest thing I've ever seen.”

“Not bad, huh?” He fire the repulsor at the blue sports car, pushing it out of the way of the hole in the ceiling. “Let's do it.”

“You need me to do anything else?” Rhodey called.

Tony lowered his faceplate. “Keep the skies clear.”

* * *

“You can’t come with me,” Rhodey said, eyeing the original silver suit before heading to the door. “You don’t have the clearing.”

Stephen eyes Tony’s cars. “No problem.”

* * *

Flying straight into Stane might not have been the _best_ idea, but it _was_ satisfying.

It was less satisfying when they fell to the street below and Stane picked up a car of innocent passengers, but still.

“Put them down!” Tony demanded, watching Stane raise the car above his head, trying to figure out how to get them away from him.

Tony thought Stane might be laughing at him. “Collateral damage, Tony.” He stepped closer.

 _Okay, time to do something._ “Divert power to chest RT.”

Straightening his back, Tony felt the suit thrum with energy as the RT came to life, taking seconds to fire a pulse of power at Stane.

 _Take that asshol—_ Stane went flying back, dropping the car and lending on a different (thankfully empty) one. _Whoops._

Tony caught the car by the front, wondering why it felt so heavy before Jarvis said, “Power reduced to nineteen percent.”

 _That probably could have been handled better._ Tony fell to one knee, managing to lower the car to the ground before the woman, terrified, started to floor it, trapping Tony on the front of the car as they sped forward.

“No, no, no, no, no, no!” He slid off, metal fingers leaving tracks in the hood, before falling under the car as it left him behind.

He almost groaned when Stane reappeared, almost stepping to the sky before punching Tony backwards as he was still regaining his balance. _Ow._ People were screaming, probably running. _Was anyone hurt— oh fuck!_ Stane kicked him into a bus before grabbing him with the suits giant hands, holding him over his head.

“For 30 years, I've been holding you up!” He slammed Tony down before stomping him, holding him in place. “I built this company from nothing!” His foot fell on Tony’s chest. _Jesus Christ, that’s gonna leave a mark._

Stane picked him up again before throwing him into a bus. “Nothing is going to stand in my way.”

Tony didn’t have time to regain his footing before thinking, _Oh fuck, what is that?_ “Least of all you!” The missile shot into the bus, destroying it in seconds in a fiery ball of light, throwing Tony up until he finally managed to turn on the flight stabilizers, hovering semi-safely in the air.

“Impressive!” Stane shouted, sounding like a B-class movie villain. “You've upgraded your armor! I've made some upgrades of my own!”

Tony’s only thought when Stane’s boots shifted and he rose into the sky, trailing light beneath his feet, was, _I don’t deserve this . . . actually—_

“Sir,” Jarvis said, “it appears that his suit can fly.”

“Duly noted, take me to maximum altitude.”

“With only fifteen percent power, the odds of reaching that—”

“I know the math! Do it!” He shot higher into the sky, Stane close behind.

“Thirteen percent power, sir.”

“Climb!”

“Eleven percent.” Jarvis was starting to sound genuinely worried. Tony ignored it.

“Keep going!” They were almost there—

“Seven percent power.”

“Just leave it on the screen! Stop telling me!” Stane was getting closer, too close, _fuck—_

Stane grabbed him by his foot, pulling him down and wrapping huge hands around his chest. The dull gray suit was coated in something bright. “You had a great idea, Tony, but my suit is more advanced in every way!”

 _Really?_ “How'd you solve the icing problem?”

Tony really wished he could see the look on Stane’s face in the seconds before he answered. “Icing problem?” The lights of his eyes went out.

“Might want to look into it,” Tony said before bringing a fist down hard on his head. He watched Stane fall from the sky.

He might have stayed there for a while, contemplating what happened if Jarvis didn’t say, “Two percent.”

 _Shit._ He started to fall, barely catching himself in time with the flickering stabilizers.

“We are now running on emergency backup power.”

“Got that!” He stuttered his way down to the top of S.I., long falls broken up by short periods of stability until he all but crash landed. _Not dead, gonna count that as a win._ “Potts?”

“Tony!” _Oh thank God, she’s alright._

“Is he okay?”

“What— Stephen? What are you doing here?”

“I came for you, douchebag, are you okay?”

“I'm almost out of power,” he explained, pulling off a metal glove. “I've got to get out of this thing. I'll be right there—”

“Nice try!” Stane slammed into the ground behind him, raising a hand.

 _Shit._ He ducked out of the way of Stane’s fist, but when he tried to aim a repulsor at him, it was with his bare hand. This revelation was quickly followed by Stane punching him hard enough to send him back several feet. Tony managed to get back up and hit him back, but that was kind of a bad plan since it gave Stane the opportunity to grab Tony, gripping him so hard around his waist it started to crush what was left of the suit.

“Weapons status?” Tony asked desperately, trying to fire a repulsor into his face.

“Repulsors offline. Missiles offline.”

He started to feel Stane’s hands dig into his flesh. “Flares!”

Dozens of sparking lights flew from the him, covering Stane and probably messing with his suit’s functions. Confused, and barely able to see through the smoke, Stane dropped him. Tony scrambled away, trying to think of a new plan.

“Very clever, Tony,” Stane said, looking around for him.

Well, the intercoms were still working, might as well try that. “Pepper, Stephen?”

“Tony!” Pepper yelled back, clearly scared.

“This isn't working,” Tony whispered, aware of Stane nearby. “We're going to have to overload the reactor and blast the roof.”

“How’s he going to do that?” Stephen asked.

“No, you two are going to do it. Go to the central console, open up all the circuits. When I get clear of the roof, I'll let you know. You're going to hit the master bypass button. It's going to fry everything up here.”

Pepper and Stephen looked at each other. “This is a terrible plan,” Stephen said.

Pepper nodded. “Yeah.” To Tony, she said, “Okay, we’re going in now.”

Luckily, they were already close to the central console. The arc reactor filled the room, pulsing blue light.

“Make sure you wait till I clear the roof,” Stane started to round the corner Tony was around. “I'll buy you some time.”

“Got it.” Together, Pepper and Stephen started opening the rows of circuits while Tony fought Stane, getting on his back and reaching into the space where the neck and shoulders joined.

Tony ripped something out. “This looks important!”

Tony tried to get at more of the suit, but Stane managed to get a hand on him, pulling his helmet off and hurling him onto the glass part of the roof. He could see the giant arc reactor, and even a hint of Stephen’s hand.

Stephen could hear them fighting, hundreds of pounds of metal thrashing against the roof. He tried to tune it out. “We’re ready.”

The front of Stane’s suit opened, showing him sitting in the chest. “I never had a taste for this sort of thing, but I must admit, I'm deeply enjoying the suit!” He crushed Tony’s helmet in his hand, throwing it to him. Tony, exhausted and running out of ideas, watched him stomp forward. “You finally outdid yourself, Tony! You'd have made your father proud.”

Stephen felt the blood drain from his face as he looked up, seeing Tony barely manage to get to his knees.

“It's ready, Tony!” Pepper told him. “Get off the roof!”

Stane started firing bullets at him, barely deflected by Tony’s gauntlet. Even then, the glass beneath him broke from them, and Tony fell through, just managing to hold onto the window pane.

Stane didn’t stop, raining bullets down, some of them falling through to the room below. Stephen and Pepper ducked their heads. “Tony!”

“How ironic, Tony!” Stane yelled, watching Tony barely hang on. “Trying to rid the world of weapons, you gave it its best one ever!”

“Guys!”

Pepper’s hand was over the bypass button, but Stephen didn’t dare move too close to it. Not while Tony was in danger.

“And now I'm going to kill you with it!” He tried to fire a missile at Tony, but it missed, blowing up part of the roof behind Tony. “You ripped out my targeting system!”

“Time to hit the button!”

“No!” Stephen shouted. “Not while you’re still up there!” Pepper didn’t move.

“Hold still, you little prick!” Stane tried to shoot him again, getting closer this time.

Tony felt his grip weaken. “Just do it!”

“Pepper, don’t, he’ll die!”

“Tony, move!”

Stane fired again. This time, the shock was close enough to shake Tony, knocking him down as he held on with one hand. “Push it!”

Stephen stared at him, realizing that there was no choice anymore. Shutting his eyes, he brought his hand down at the same time as Pepper.

Immediately, the arc reactor started to fall apart, filling the room with bursts of electricity that shot around as they ducked and ran to escape. In seconds, the energy shot through the roof, knocking Tony back and holding Stane in place as it rushed through him, burning through his body and suit. When the pulse was gone, Stane fell forward, landing in the arc reactor. It exploded in a blaze of fire that destroyed the room, and Stane.

Outside, Stephen stared at the roof unable to see anything. “Tony? . . . _Tony!_ "

* * *

“You've all received the official statement of what occurred at Stark Industries last night. There have been unconfirmed reports that a robotic prototype malfunctioned and caused damage to the arc reactor. Fortunately, a member of Tony Stark's personal security staff . . .”

Stephen let Rhodey’s speech fade into the background as he finished making sure Tony’s bruises were covered. For his part, Tony seemed unconcerned with the speech he had to make, focusing on the news article that was in the paper. “‘Iron Man’, that's kind of catchy, it's got a nice ring to it. I mean, it's not technically accurate. The suit's a gold-titanium alloy, but it's kind of evocative, the imagery, anyway.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Stephen said, looking away so he didn’t have to see Tony’s reaction.

Luckily for him, Agent Coulson approached at the same time, handing a stack of notecards to Tony. “Here's your alibi.”

Tony took them, the slightest look of discomfort on his face as he read. “Okay.”

“You were on your yacht. We have port papers that put you in Avalon all night, and sworn statements from 50 of your guests.”

“Actually I was thinking maybe we should say it was just Stephen and me alone on the island.”

Stephen rolled his eyes, fighting the smile that crept up on his face.

“That's what happened,” Coulson said. “Just read it, word for word.”

Tony flipped through the cards, tilting back to let Pepper fix his hair. “There's nothing about Stane here.”

“That's being handled. He's on vacation. Small aircraft have such a poor safety record.”

“But what about the whole cover story that it's a bodyguard?”

“Not your best work,” Stephen said.

Coulson smiled pleasantly. “This isn't my first rodeo. Just stick to the official statement, and soon, this will all be behind you. You've got two minutes.”

Coulson left with Pepper. The last thing Stephen heard was Pepper thanking him for his help and Coulson saying something about “shield”.

Once they were gone, Stephen stood behind Tony, draping his arms around his chest and reading the cards over his shoulder.

Tony leaned into him. “You know, it's actually not that bad. Even I don't think I'm Iron Man.”

“Good.”

“But you know, if I _were_ a hero—”

“Oh, boy.”

“—I'd have this wildly attractive love interest who knew my true identity. They’d be a wreck, 'cause they would always be worrying about me, yet so proud of the man I'd become. They would be wildly conflicted, which would only make them more crazy about me."

“Hm, I think they’d mostly just be annoyed.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Even if I gave them nice gifts to show my affection?” Tony asked, pulling a box out of his suit jacket.

Stephen rolled his eyes, but took it with a fond smile. “Y’know if you keep fueling my watch addiction, it’s going to become a serious problem.”

“Oh I’m sorry, do you want me to take it back?” Tony asked, reaching out to take it.

Stephen smacked his hand, opening the box. “Back off, it’s mine.”

It was beautiful, of course. Polished gold. Black leather strap. Expertly crafted face. Not gaudy, but the label on the box told him it was probably worth enough to buy a suitable car.

“It’s perfect,” Stephen said. He started to put it on, but Tony stopped him. “Turn it over.”

Stephen arched a brow at that, but did as he said, turning the watch over to look at the back. “It’s engraved.”

_How long will I love you?_

_As long as you want._

Stephen stared. “Tony . . .”

Before he could say something, Rhodey’s voice grew louder, announcing the end of his speech. “And now, Mr. Stark has prepared a statement. He will not be taking any questions. Thank you.”

“Be back in a bit,” Tony said, quickly kissing his cheek before walking out to the press conference. Stephen watched him speak through the TV in the room, not trusting himself to be out there just then.

Tony stood in front of the podium, seeming less relaxed then usual, if no less magnetic. “Been a while since I was in front of you, I figure I'll stick to the cards this time.” There was a light laugh as Tony dutifully raised the cards in his hand.

Tony cleared his throat. “There's been speculation that I was involved in the events that occurred on the freeway and the rooftop, and—”

“I'm sorry, Mr. Stark,” a reporter interrupted, “but do you honestly expect us to believe that that was a bodyguard in a suit that conveniently appeared, despite the fact that you—”

“I know that it's confusing. It _is_ one thing to question the official story, and another thing entirely to make wild accusations, or insinuate that I'm a superhero.”

“I never said you were a superhero.”

 _Well, fuck you too,_ Stephen thought, feeling the slightest bit defensive of Tony at the moment.

“Didn't? Well, good, because that would be outlandish and, uh, fantastic. I'm just not the hero type. Clearly. With this laundry list of character defects, all the mistakes I've made, largely public . . .”

Rhodey leaned over and whispered something to Tony before leaning back and smiling at the crowd of reporters.

Tony looked down at the cards. “The truth is . . .” he stared down for a moment, mouth closing, before raising his eyes. “I am Iron Man.”

_Oh, fuck—_


	3. Iron Man 2

_— 2011 —_

“Doctor Strange?”

Stephen turned in the direction of the familiar voice, Christine by his side. “Oh, hey Happy.”

Tony’s bodyguard stood only a few feet away, unconcerned by the milling mass of people that surrounded him. “Mister Stark wanted me to escort you to your seats for the opening ceremonies. If you will.” Happy walked forward, leading them through the building. “Try and stay close, there’s a lot of people.”

“I feel fancy,” Christine said, stepping into a private elevator with Happy dutifully standing guard with his arms crossed in front of him.

“You get used to it,” Stephen said, barely able to stop himself from smiling. It felt like he hadn’t seen Tony in years rather than a few weeks — but to be fair to him, it was a _very long_ few weeks.

Christine scoffed. “Maybe _you_ do.”

“Ouch. You wound me, Christine.”

“I’m sure.”

The elevator door opened before Stephen could retort, and Happy led them down the hall before opening a door. “Front and center.”

Christine went first, curious. Her eyes widened. “Oh, wow.” They were on a balcony overlooking the huge, dark room. The stage alone lit up by bright lights, and lined by young women in red-and-gold shorts and midriff-baring tops with glowing ‘arc reactors’ in the center of their chests. Behind them was a towering black screen.

The room was already filled with people talking excitedly, looking up at the huge hole in the stadium roof. Stephen looked up. “I think it’s about to—”

The building erupted with light as golden fireworks were set off outside and the screen lit up with red, white, and blue, followed by a echoing _thud_ as a man in a metal suit landed on the stage, quickly standing up to roaring applause.

 _Tony._ Stephen cheered with the crowd, not caring about the dancing women or too-loud rock music or the lights that threatened to blind anyone too close to them; his eyes were trained on the man in the red-and-gold armor.

Christine seemed incredibly amused when Stephen applauded for the removal of the suit, which left Tony in a much more traditional pinstripe tux. Tony, with a smile bright enough to light the city, bowed as the song came to an end. Stephen wondered how the audience could handle cheering for so long.

He watched a bit too closely as the dancers left the stage, circling around Tony as they did. Stephen did smile when Tony said, “Don’t get too close, my boyfriend’s here.” It was hard to feel jealous when Tony winked up at the balcony in front of all those people before looking back to the crowd.

“It’s good to be _back!_ Did you miss me?”

One man shouted, “Blow something up!”

“I missed you too. Blow something up?” Tony grinned cheekily. “I already did that.” He quieted a bit, looking serious when he spoke again. “I’m not saying that the world is enjoying its longest period of uninterrupted peace in years because of me.” The crowd applauded; clearly _they_ felt that it was. “I’m not saying that from the ASHES! OF CAPTIVITY! Never has a greater phoenix metaphor been personified in human history.”

Stephen rolled his eyes, smiling. _Cheeky bastard._

“I’m not saying that Uncle Sam can kick back on a lawn chair, sipping on an iced tea because I haven’t come across anyone who’s man enough to go toe-to-toe with me on my best day!”

Stephen thought that anyone looking to disagree with the adoring crowd would find themselves torn to shreds by the Tony-loving animals, who were now chanting “Tony” over and over again. _Worth it._

“Please,” Tony said with a slight shake of the head, “it’s not about me.” _I think the thousands of people cheering you name would disagree with you, sweetheart._ “It’s not about _you_. It’s not even about us. It’s about _legacy_. It’s about what we choose to leave behind for future generations. And that’s why for the next year and for the first time since 1974, the best and brightest men and women of nations and corporations the world over will pool their resources, share their collective vision, to leave behind a brighter future.” Stephen watched him speak, watched the way his hands moved like words were simply not enough to express himself. “It’s not about us. Therefore, what I’m _saying_ , if I’m saying anything, is welcome back to the Stark Expo!”

The crowd applauded once more, though they quieted somewhat when Tony spoke again. “And now, making a _special_ guest appearance from the great beyond to tell you what it’s all about, please welcome my father, Howard.”

“Well, the part I came here for is over,” Stephen snarked as Tony left the stage and the screen changed to the image of a man in his fifties. “Everything is achievable through technology,” Howard Stark told them through the video. Stephen tuned most of it out, a fact which seemed to annoy some of the other VIP guests sitting in the balcony.

“Excuse me,” one man said in a tone that was anything but polite, “but who are you?”

Stephen looked at the man with disdain, ignoring Christine cringing next to him. “I’m Doctor Stephen Strange, Tony Stark’s boyfriend. And you are?”

The man shrunk back, acting as though he’d never spoken and training his eyes ahead. Stephen smirked, returning his attention to the screen.

“You like that way too much,” Christine muttered.

“Not possible.”

They just managed to catch the final part of Howard Stark’s speech. “—and will one day rid society of all its ills. Soon technology will affect the way you live your life every day. No more tedious work, leaving more time for leisure activities and enjoying the sweet life. The Stark Expo. Welcome.”

As soon as the video ended, Stephen got up, leaning over to Christine. “I’m going to see if I can find Tony. Are you going to stay for the Expo?”

“Yeah, but I thought you were gonna stay for the—”

“It’ll be here all year, I’ll have plenty of time. Try not to have so much fun you can’t make it to work tomorrow.” He left the balcony, not bothering to look back and made it to the elevator just as it was opening. “Happy.”

Happy rushed him into the elevator, repeatedly pressing the down button. “I was just coming to get you. We gotta hurry up, Mister Stark wants to get home for the night.”

“Already?”

“Well, it’s been a long day. Besides, he was looking forward to seeing you. Ah, here we are—” They had to push through crowds of reporters and guests before getting to Tony.

As soon as he saw them, Tony put on a smile, leaning up to kiss Stephen’s cheek. “Where’ve you been?”

“Right here waiting for you,” Stephen said as Happy started to hurry them to the doors. “How’s saving the world been?”

“Eh, same-old same-old. Not as fun as some of the stuff I’ve been hearing about you.”

“Well, the tabloids won’t leave me alone now that you and I have broken out three-months streak. I always enjoy whatever new story they cook up about me.” The one about him dating Christine was particularly fun. Really, you go to get coffee with a friend one time—

“Not that. Christine told me you're being considered for an award for your work with neurogenesis. She seemed pretty happy for you.”

“Wait a minute, since when do you talk to Christine?”

“What are you talking about, she loves me.”

Stephen scoffed. “No, she really doesn’t.”

“You two,” Happy interrupted, standing in front of a set of double-doors. “Stay with me, please.”

“Alright,” Tony said, pulling Stephen to him. “Careful, it’s a zoo out there.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Happy opened the doors, shepherding them outside through the throng of reporters, photographers, and Tony’s fans. No one got too close, except for one woman who insisted Tony call her (Stephen didn’t know whether to laugh or glare), and Tony had fun signing autographs for little kids. Still, it felt like forever before they finally made it to the doors.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Happy said, holding the door for them.

“No, it was very mellow. You good, Doc?”

“Mostly just more appreciative of personal space.”

“Look what we got here,” Happy said, gesturing to the car waiting for them, along with an attractive blonde woman leaning on the side. “The new model.”

“Not a word, Tony,” Stephen warned.

“Killjoy. Hi, and you are?”

The woman shook Tony’s hand, answering, “Marshal.”

“Irish. Good name.”

“Pleased to meet you, Tony.”

“I’m on the wheel,” Tony told Happy when he tried to get in on the driver’s side. “Why are there only two seats? Someone didn’t think this through. Y’know what, Stephen, why don’t you—”

“I’m not sitting on your lap, Tony.”

“You used to like fun.” Tony looked back to Marshal. “What are you doing here?”

“Serving subpoenas.” She handed Tony a piece of paper.

“Yikes.”

Stephen made a thoughtful noise. “Well, that’s a nice change of pace at least.”

When Tony didn’t take the paper, Happy sighed and reached over for it. “Sorry, he doesn’t like to be handed things.”

“Yeah, I have a peeve,” Tony said, still ignoring the paper.

Marshal ignored his explanation. “You are hereby ordered to appear before the Senate Armed Services Committee tomorrow morning at 9 am.”

“Well that’s annoying. Happy, how far are we from D.C.?”

“D.C.?” Happy shrugged. “About two-fifty.”

Tony sighed. “Looks like we’re going to be driving all night. Could you two just . . .” He made a shooing gesture at Happy and Marshal before pulling Stephen to the side.

Stephen tried for a smile. “Guess we’re going to have to take a rain check for that date, huh?”

“Unfortunately. Good thing we still have the next two weeks to look forward to.” Stephen was going with him to California for Tony’s birthday and more of the Expo since the main events were in California, unlike the smaller opening ceremonies in New York. “Tell you what, why don’t you stay and hang out at the Expo, have a good time, and we’ll meet up evening at the airport, okay? I’ll send someone to get you.”

“What, from the Expo or the hospital?”

“Both.”

Stephen huffed. “Well, at least we solved the car problem.”

“Good for you, looking on the bright side.” Tony leaned up for a kiss, not-so-discreetly squeezing Stephen’s ass. “Love ‘ya.”

* * *

“So the Senate meeting went well,” Stephen said coolly, reading one of his medical journals while he sat on one end of the bed in Tony’s jet (honestly, a bedroom in a jet. What would his parents think?).

“I thought so,” Tony said, pretending to go over a report that Pepper sent him.

“I thought the part where you told Hammer not to call you ‘Anthony’ was inspired.”

“Of course. That’s our thing.”

“Would have liked if you didn’t tell everyone that.”

“The truth is important.”

“Not _that_ important. What was it? ‘First of all, only my boyfriend calls me that, and only when we’re arguing or having sex.’”

“That’s a true factoid. Don’t you think the people should know their hero?”

“I think you’re lucky you’re pretty.”

“It did work though,” Tony pointed out. “They can’t take my suit. Could have done without Justin giving me a speech about my dad, but—”

“Oh. So it’s ‘Justin’ now.”

Tony smiled. “You’re adorable when you’re jealous.” He crawled over to Stephen, settling himself in his lap. “It’s hot.”

Stephen tried not to smile. “Tony, now is not—”

“Why not?” Tony asked, grinding down. “Pepper and Rhodey can’t hear us, we’re alone. There’s even a bed. I would like to personally induct you into the Tony Stark Mile-High Club. It’s very exclusive.”

“Well now you’re just lying to me.” But he seemed to come around to the idea, raising a hand to pop open the buttons of the Tony’s shirt until Tony grabbed his wrist.

“Do you mind if I just keep this on?”

Stephen frowned. “Why?”

“It’s nothing. It’s just that I got a few new scars on my chest from the last mission, and they haven’t entirely healed yet.”

“Are you ok—”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m just . . .” _Dying of palladium poisoning._ “Not comfortable with them yet. So. Shirt on?”

* * *

Tony clapped his hands. “Wake up, kiddies. Daddy’s home.” The room filled with blue light as the screens turned back on, surrounding the desk.

“Welcome home, sir,” Jarvis said, voice echoing. “Congratulations on the opening ceremonies. They were such a success, as was your Senate hearing.” One screen switched to a YouTube video of the Senate hearing. Tony smirked when he saw it was almost at two million views. “And may I say how refreshing it is to finally see you in a video with your clothing on, sir.”

Before Tony could respond, he heard a blender whir, shooting green liquid over the roof. “Goddamn— U!”

U whirled around to him, accidentally knocking over a blender.

“I swear to God I’ll dismantle you. I’ll soak your motherboard. I’ll turn you into a wine rack.”

U looked down, despondent.

“Oh, don’t give me that puppy-dog look. You know what you did.” He looked at the smoothie that Dum-E had managed to make. “How many ounce a day of this crap am I supposed to drink?”

“We are up to 80 ounces a day to counteract the symptoms, sir.”

“Well, at least Stephen’ll think I’m actually eating healthy.” Tony drank the smoothie down, barely resisting the urge to follow up with a scotch. He pulled out his blood toxicity checking machine that he really needed to name. “Let’s check palladium levels.” He pricked his finger to make a blood sample.

“Blood toxicity, twenty-four percent.” Jarvis brought up the scans of the reactor that he’d long ago memorized. “It appears that the continued use of the Iron Man suit is accelerating your condition. Another core has been depleted.”

 _Yeah, I noticed._ Kind of hard not to when it felt like there was acid in his chest. He pulled his shirt up and took out the arc reactor, by now used to way his heart raced. The core popped out, burnt brown and smoking. “God, they’re running out quick.” He put a new one in, this one shiny silver.

“I have run simulations on every known element, and none can serve as a viable replacement for the palladium core.”

“Yeah, I got that.” Tony fit the arc reactor back in, missing the relief he used to feel. The blue lines around his heart didn’t go away.

“You are running out of both time and options. Unfortunately, the device that’s keeping you alive is also killing you.”

Tony looked at his chest. He’d done that so many times over the past weeks that he was starting to forget what he used to look like.

“Miss Potts is approaching. I recommend that you inform her—”

“Mute.” Tony pulled his shirt back down and switched the computers over to their screen savers as Pepper finished inputting the workshop’s code.

Without so much as a greeting, Pepper demanded, “Is this a joke? What are you thinking?”

“What?”

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking you have to be more specific about what you’re angry about.” He stood up, wandering through the room to mess with some of the holograms that were up.

Pepper followed him. “Did you just donate our _entire_ modern art collection to the—”

“—Boy Scouts of America.”

“—Boy Scouts of America?”

“Yes. It is a worthwhile organisation. I didn’t physically check the crates but, basically, yes. And it’s not ‘our’ collection, it’s _my_ collection. Although I did keep a couple of Stephen’s favorites, but those are his now—”

“ _No_ , you know what? I think I’m actually entitled to say _our_ collection considering the time that _I_ put in, over ten _years_ , curating that!”

“And I appreciate that, but I did pay you to do it, so.”

Pepper shook her head, seeming more fed up with him than usual. _Which, you know. Fair._ “You know, there’s only about ten thousand things that I really need to talk to you about.”

Tony tapped on Dum-E’s side. “Hey, stop spacing out. The Bridgeport’s already machining that part.”

Pepper stood in front of him, blocking his exit. “The Expo is a gigantic waste of time.”

“Hm. I need you to make sure the remaining modern art pieces are boxed up in time for Stephen’s birthday. Should have plenty of time, it’s in November.” He returned to walking around, looking for something to distract his hands.

“Now you’re being annoying just for the sake of it.”

“There’s nothing more important to me than the Expo right now. It’s my primary point of concern. I don’t know why you’re—”

“The Expo is your ego gone crazy.”

“That already happened years ago.” He stopped in front of a blue-and-red painting of the armor that someone had brought by and picked it up. “Wow. Now _that’s_ modern art. That’s going up.” He started looking for a place to put it.

Pepper watched him in disbelief. “You’ve _got_ to be kidding.”

“I’m gonna put this up right now. This is vital.”

“S.I. is in _complete_ disarray. You understand that?

“No. Our stocks have never been higher.” _Really, Pepper, the company is fine. Everything is just . . . fine._

“Yes, from a managerial standpoint.”

“Well, if’s messy then let’s double back—”

“Let me give you an example.”

“Uh, no, let’s move onto another subject. Oh, perfect.” He shoved some glasses off of a counter and hopped up.

“Oh, no, no, no, no. You are _not_ taking down the Barnett Newman and hanging that up.”

“It’s a black line, Pepper! It’s literally just a line!” Tony pulled the old painting down and started to hand the obviously superior Iron Man one up.

“Okay, you know what? Fine. My point is, we have already awarded contracts to the wind farm people—”

“Don’t say ‘wind farm’. I’m already feeling gassy.” _Oh, it’s rocking._

“—and to the plastic plantation tree, which was your idea by the way.”

“ _Everything_ was my idea.”

“Those people are on payroll, and you won’t make a decision!”

“Pepper, I don’t _care_ anymore. It’s boring. Boring. I’m giving you a boring alert.” He jumped off the desk, looking off like he’d just had an idea. “You do it.”

Pepper gave him a look. “I do what?”

“Excellent idea. I just figured this out. _You_ run the company.”

Pepper probably wished she could strangle him right then. _Too bad, I’m already dying, so ha._ “Yeah, I’m _trying_ to run the company.”

“Well, stop trying to do it and do it.”

“You will not give me the information that I need—”

“Pepper, I’m not asking you to try, I’m asking you to physically do it. I need you to do it.”

“I am _trying_ to do it—”

He groaned. “Pepper, you’re not listening to me!”

“ _No_ , you’re not listening to _me_ —”

“I’m trying to make you CEO!”

Pepper stopped, backing up as though in shock before leaning forward to sniff him. “Have you been drinking?”

“Chlorophyll.” He leaned into Pepper, holding her shoulders. “I hereby irrevocably appoint you chairman and CEO of Stark Industries, effective immediately.”

Pepper stared at him.

Tony looked away. “Yeah, done deal. Okay?” Dum-E was already holding a tray with champagne. “I’ve actually given this a fair amount of thought, believe it or not. Doing a bit of headhunting, so to speak, trying to figure out who a worthy successor would be. And then I realized—” He popped open the bottle, feeling bubbly liquid cover his hand. “—it’s you. It’s always been you.”

Pepper sat down in shock, still watching him. _I hope she’s not this out of it when she’s running the company, jeez. Who is she, me?_ “I thought there’d be a legal issue, but actually I’m capable of appointing my successor. My successor being you.” He handed Pepper a glass of champagne. That seemed to snap her out of it, at least a bit. “Congratulations.”

“I . . . don’t even know what to think . . .”

“Don’t think, drink.” He clinked their glasses. “I’d wake Stephen up so he could celebrate with us, but God knows the man hates it when you interrupt his beauty sleep.”

* * *

“Are you alright?”

They were laying on the couch, legs tangled up while Stephen massaged Tony’s foot, apparently out of the goodness of his heart (for the moment).

“Don’t know what you’re talking about. Oh, that’s good. You’re good at this. Strong hands.”

“So I’m told.” Stephen’s smile faded. “I’m serious though. You’ve been acting strange.”

“Ha, Strange.”

“You know, your last name is a word too.”

“Yeah, but it’s not _Strange_ —”

“And though this is a valiant attempt to change the topic, it’s not working.”

Tony shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re acting like you don’t want sex tonight.”

“It’s nothing!” Tony said hurriedly, because seriously, it had been _weeks_ and Stephen was just threatening him like that? Cruel. “Just stress.”

“Really? Stress made you turn your company over to Pepper?”

“She’ll be better at it than me.”

“Yes, obviously, but since when are you one to do the smart thing?”

“Ouch. You wound me, Doctor Sexy, I’m wounded.”

“First of all, what did I say about referencing that stupid, melodramatic, and inaccurate show in front of me?”

“You still watch it.”

“Only to point out what it gets wrong. Second, you’re still not getting fucked, because I don’t believe for an _instant_ that’s all there is to it.”

Tony shrugged looking down. “I’m . . .” _Dying. I’m sorry. I’m going to miss you._ “. . . changing. Lot’s happened in the past six months, y’know? But I don’t think it’s bad change.” He looked up, seeking out Stephen’s eyes. “Do you think it’s bad?”

Stephen was smiling, the small, quiet one he reserved for Tony. “No. Not as long as you’re okay.”

Tony thought he might laugh.

Stephen dropped Tony’s foot and pulled his legs up, setting his feet on Tony’s stomach. “Hop to.”

Tony arched a brow. “I didn't know you expected me to return the favor.”

“Why did you think I was doing it?”

“I thought you were being nice.”

“Tony, we both know how unlikely that is.”

* * *

“You need to stop flying us everywhere,” Stephen said grouchily, trying to adjust his suit with his phone as a mirror. “I was still jet lagged from California.”

“You could have waited,” Tony pointed out. “You didn’t have to come with me to Malibu. And it’s not like I could change the date of the Grand Prix. Stop fussing, we’re here.”

The car slowed to a stop in front of a casino that looked too nice to be as old as its design. Tony handed him a pair of tinted sunglasses. “Here. We’ll match.” Just as Stephen finished putting them on, Tony opened the door to the cheers of the crowd, flashing them a peace sign. Stephen followed him, ignoring the crowd and smiling when Tony curled an arm around his waist.

Happy followed them with Tony’s briefcase, staring straight ahead as they walked into the building. “We haven’t been to anything like this in a while,” Tony said, looking around at the obnoxious people in over-priced clothes. _Ah, home sweet home._ “I should show you off more.”

“You’d have to be in New York more to do that,” Stephen pointed out.

“Or you could be in Malibu.”

“Tony, of the two of us, which one both has a job that requires them to stay in one area almost all of the time and does not have a private jet?”

“Let me buy you a private jet, and you’ll be one step closer. Pepper!” Tony greeted Pepper with a fond smile, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. “How’ve you been?”

“What, in the past four hours since we last saw each other? Busy.”

“Business as usual, then. Is Natalie, yes she is. Hi.”

Stephen didn’t bother to hide his eye roll. Natalie Rushman was Tony’s new PA — a very attractive redhead who probably had other qualities that he couldn’t think of.

Natalie smiled. “Hello Mister Stark, Doctor Strange. How was your flight?

“It was excellent,” Tony said. “Boy, it’s nice to see y—” He choked on his words when Stephen elbowed him in the stomach.

“Are you alright, dear?” Stephen asked innocently. “You should drink something.” He took a glass from a passing waiter and handed it to him before shooting a warning look at Natalie, who only smiled in response.

“We have one photographer from the ACM, if you don’t mind. Okay?” She took Tony’s glass before he’d properly agreed, setting it back on the tray of the mildly confused waiter before waving over a photographer.

“Okay. Stephen, you wanna stand with me?”

“Of course.” Stephen positioned himself at Tony’s side and smiled at the camera, gritting out to Tony, “You are such an asshole.”

“You love it.” He subtly pinched Stephen’s ass before following Natalie through the dining room. “You look very appropriate, Natalie. Stephen, is that conservative enough for you?”

“Perfect. Miss Rushman, what’s on our docket?”

To her credit, Natalie didn’t miss a beat, simply saying in her smooth, calm voice, “You have a nine-thirty dinner.”

“Perfect,” Tony said, “we’ll be there at eleven. Is this us?” He pointed at a table that was set for someone who was definitely not them.

“It can be.”

“Great. Make it us. Stephen, you stay here a moment, I’m gonna talk to Pepper. Here, talk to Elon.” He left Stephen and Natalie behind at the table, careful not to stand too close to Pepper lest Stephen start to get ideas. “Green’s really not his color. You okay? You want a massage?”

“Oh, God no,” Pepper said. “These past few days have been long enough, the last thing I need is people thinking I can’t handle it.”

“Anyone who thinks that is an idiot.”

Pepper smiled. “Thank you, Tony.” She looked back at the table where Stephen was dutifully hiding his disinterest in Elon Musk, leaning into Tony. “Did you ask him yet?”

“I’m planning to later. Stop looking all sneaky, someone’s gonna suspect something—”

“Anthony?” Justin Hammer’s annoying voice asked, as though the universe had heard him and decided to be sarcastic. “Is that you?”

 _Why?_ To Pepper he said, “Oh, it’s my least favorite person on Earth.”

Hammer had what Tony recognized as his media-smile on, coming over and and setting a friendly hand on Tony’s shoulder, standing too close. “Hey, pal.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“How you doing?”

“Worse now that you’re here.”

“You’re such a kidder. You know Christine Everhart from Vanity Fair? You guys know each other?”

An attractive blonde woman who Tony recognized as the one who gave him the photos from Gulmira appeared behind Hammer, waving lightly at them. “Hi.”

“Yes, good to see you again.”

Hammer interrupted him as he often did, pointing to Pepper. “BTW, big story. The _new_ CEO of Stark Industries.”

“I heard,” Everhart said, holding a hand out to Pepper. They returned each other’s business smiles. “Congratulations. You know, my editor will kill me if I don’t grab a quote for our Powerful Women issue. Can I?”

“Oh,” Pepper said, her smile becoming more genuine. “Sure.”

Justin, unable to stand not being the center of attention, said, “She’s actually doing a big spread on me for Vanity Fair. I thought I’d throw her a bone, you know. Right?”

Tony had given up on paying attention to Hammer, looking past them at the wall and shaking his head. Pepper smiled stiffly at Justin. “Right. Well, she did quite a spread on Tony last year. It was very impressive.”

“Well,” Tony said, still not looking at them, “if everything goes to plan maybe soon you can do one on me and Stephen. In fact, I think I’m gonna go and talk to him right now—” Tony managed to escape as Justin tried to talk about getting a spot in the Expo ( _Yeah, maybe when he makes something that works_ ), but he deflated some looking at Stephen, who was expertly managing a conversation between Elon and a few other people that Tony should probably have recognized and Pepper definitely would have.

“Hm,” Stephen said, tilting his head arrogantly. “Yes, I heard about your . . . attempts at recreating the Iron Man prosthesis. I believe Tony said you were, what, ten years behind his current model?” He sipped his drink. “Well, that’s better than Hammer.”

Tony tried to smile, to walk over to him, but he couldn’t. He turned on his heel and set off to find a private bathroom, ignoring any attempts to get his attention. He locked the door behind him, resting against it before pulling himself up. _C’mon, Stark._ Crying about it wasn’t going to fix anything.

Idly, he checked his blood toxicity, needing a reason not to go back out. _Fifty-three percent._

There was something weighing down his chest, his shoulders. He looked up at the mirror, stared into his own blank expression. “Any other bad ideas?”

* * *

“Well,” Stephen said to the incredibly annoying businessman he’d found himself speaking to, “far be it from a neurosurgeon with an M.D. and PhD to correct your inane ideas about healthcare.” _Tony and I should go out more often. This is great._

Thinking of . . . “Rushman,” Stephen said sharply, “have you seen Tony?”

“Not since he left to the bathroom.”

Stephen shook his head. “I swear, that man is going to be the . . . death of . . . me.” Stephen stared past Natalie to a TV.

“Well, what’s the use of having and owning a race car if you don’t drive it?” Tony demanded, wearing a blue race suit with ‘STARK’ emblazoned across the chest. Ignoring several people’s attempts to wave him off, he jumped into one of the race cars on the track, asking for a helmet.

Stephen’s hand patted around the table, searching for someone. “Pepper?”

Pepper looked up from her phone. “Yeah?” Her eyes widened the instant she saw the screen. She dropped her phone in shock. “Natalie. Natalie!”

Natalie rushed to Pepper’s side, eyes flickering to the TV every few seconds. “Yes, Miss Potts?”

“What do you know about this?”

“This is the first I am knowing of it.”

“Well that’s one way to cover up your ass,” Stephen said, but he was so stunned it lacked his usual bite.

Pepper ignored him. “This _cannot_ happen, we need to fix this, _now_.”

Natalie nodded. She was calmer than the other two, but Stephen knew she was as surprised as them. “Absolutely. How can I help?”

“Where’s Happy?”

“He’s waiting outside.”

“Get him.”

* * *

Really, Stephen and Pepper were overreacting. Tony couldn’t see them, but he knew they were overreacting. It was just a little race— _What’s that?_

A man was standing on the track, his orange pit crew jumpsuit tearing apart. _Is he holding whips?_

A car speeded down towards him, trying to veer out of the way. Before it could, the man, his chest exposed to show some short of halter with a glowing center, brought one whip down, slicing off part of the car and sending the rest of it flying. _Oh, okay, electric whips, that’s not good—_ The man lashed out again, this time cutting the front of Tony’s car and turning it over, screeching along the road. _Oh, fuck this day._

He smacked into the other, similarly destroyed car, flipping the car onto its hood before it slammed into the barrier.

Tony winced as the car rolled to a stop on top of him. _Oh, Stephen is never gonna stop bitching about this._ He pulled the helmet off and threw it away, looking around. Not only was his car was ruined, the others that had been behind him started to crash into each other trying to avoid the man with the whips, who was taking his time walking down the track towards him. Tony struggled out of the car before he got there, keeping his head low as he looked for a weapon.

The man brought a whip down on the car again, drawing back when he saw Tony wasn’t there.

Of course, he realized where he was a moment later when Tony hit him in the back of his head with a piece of metal. Which, yeah, wasn’t Tony’s best plan since a moment letter the guy shot it out of his hand with one of his whips, sending Tony sprawling back on the ground. He had to twist and dodge to avoid being cut in half before managing to get up to his feet and running back to the car pileup, smacking his head and falling to the ground when he moved too fast on the ruined metal.

Feeling blood drip down his face, Tony looked up for a moment before bringing his head back down, playing dead as the man stalked towards him. _C’mon, there’s gotta be . . . huh._ The car he’d slid off of was dripping gasoline from the tank. Its side view mirror showed the man getting closer.

 _Closer . . . closer . . ._ just before the man shot his weapon out, Tony jumped up and ran, the electric whip striking the puddle of gas.

Tony panted, belatedly realizing that his sleeve was on fire and hurriedly patting it out before seeing the man, apparently uninjured, smiling as he prowled.

Tony was almost out of ideas when he saw a new car drive up behind the man and ran, jumping onto the fence and climbing up as the car rammed into his attacker, driving him into the wall.

Happy leaned out the window. “Are you okay?”

Tony jumped off the fence, staring at Happy. “Who were you even aiming for, me or him? ‘Cause I couldn’t tell!”

“I was trying to scare him.”

Before Tony could calmly and respectfully tell him what a horrible idea that was, Stephen leaned out of the backseat window, screaming, “ _Are you fucking insane?!”_

“This wasn’t my fault!”

 _"Get in the car!_ ”

“I was attacked! We need better security!”

_“GET IN THE FUCKING CAR!”_

Pepper and Happy joined Stephen in yelling at Tony, who decided that now was not the time to discuss it.

Tony opened the backseat door, muttering, “First vacation in over a year—”

The whip shot out again, electricity crackling as it sliced the door in half.

“Oh shit, he’s back!” Tony dropped the door, watching Happy pull the car back before ramming into him again.

“I got him!” Happy yelled while Pepper tried to pass Tony’s case to him, screaming, “ _Take the case! Take it!_ ”

“I’m trying to, but Happy keeps moving the car!” Which, y’know, fair considering the guy was somehow still trying to kill him despite Happy repeatedly hitting him with the car to the tune of Stephen screaming, _“Hit him again! Hit him again! Don’t kill him, but hit him again!”_

Despite Happy’s best efforts, the man managed to slice the car in half and take off part of the top before Pepper managed to throw the briefcase to Tony.

 _Okay, good, briefcase suit, finally we’re getting somewhere._ The case transformed, silver and red metal fitting itself over Tony until he was encased in armor.

 _First thing’s first—_ Tony kicked what remained of the car away, positioning himself in between it and the attacker who was somehow still kicking after Happy had done his best to end Stephen’s time off work early. Tony raised his palms, flinching back whenever a line of electricity struck out, but managing to get a few good shots in before the man wrapped them around his arm and neck.

Forced to his knees, screens glitching in front of him, Tony stared ahead, resentment simmering inside him, and started wrapping the whips around himself, pulling them to him, refusing to let go when the man tried to pull them back. In seconds, they were right in front of each other. And only one of them had their weapon.

Refusing to give even an inch of the whips back, Tony, flipped the man on his back, resisting the urge to stomp him as he reached down and pulled the power source from his chest. The electricity died, leaving only useless wires in their place. The man didn’t try to fight him.

Finally able to rest, Tony looked around. People were cheering, taking pictures, but he only relaxed when he saw that Stephen, Pepper, and Happy were alright, or at least uninjured. Police officers was finally there to take the crazy guy away, though not before he spit blood at Tony, none of it managing to land on him. He was laughing. “You . . . you lose! You lose Stark!”

* * *

“Hope I didn’t put you off France,” Tony said quietly, closing the bedroom door behind him. They were finally in the air after Ivan Vanko’s arrest and the incredibly annoying questioning by the French police. Tony was already planning to do his own research into him and his father Anton after seeing the arc reactor technology that no one else should have had. But for now, damage control.

Stephen didn’t bother looking up at him, eyes steadily trained on his book. “Maybe avoid the cities next time. And insane killers hellbent on your destruction if we can manage it.”

“You can have one or the other, not both.”

“Definitely the first one, then.”

“Square deal.” Tony Sank down on the bed, squirming under Stephen’s arms until his head was in his lap. “Hello.”

Stephen bounced his leg trying to move Tony. “I’m not in the mood, Tony.”

“I know. I wanted to fix that.” He grabbed Stephen’s book and tossed it to the end of the bed, smiling at Stephen’s frustrated look. “Now that I have your attention, I wanted to know how you feel about making a detour to Italy.”

“Right now, I don’t even feel like staying in this room with you.”

“It’ll be fun. We can go to the house in Tuscany, lounge in bed and ignore the rest of the world for a few days.”

“You _know_ we have to go home. Now more than ever, you cannot afford to ignore your responsibilities. Honestly Tony, what are you even thinking?”

 _Palladium in the chest — painful way to die._ Tony sighed, sitting up with his back to Stephen. “Okay. Fine. Y’know, I _wanted_ to have a nice weekend in Italy so I could propose, but I guess we can just—”

“Woah, woah, woah, _stop_.” Stephen grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back until Tony was laying across his lap, looking up at him. Stephen was staring at him with wide eyes, holding Tony’s shoulders so he couldn’t move. “What did you just say?”

“Nice weekend in Italy?”

Stephen’s hands tightened. “Literally exactly after that.”

“Oh, you mean ‘so I could propose’? Yeah, but if you’re not interested in that—”

“Tony, please stop being an asshole for _two minutes—_ ”

Tony grabbed one of Stephen’s hands, bringing it to his mouth and kissing the palm. “C’mon Stephen. Make an honest man of me and take me away from all this.”

“Be serious.”

Tony smiled, resting Stephen’s hand against his cheek. “Marry me and make me the happiest man alive.” _For about a month or so._ “What do you say?”

“Yes,” Stephen breathed. “Jesus fuck, _yes_.” He leaned down to kiss him, holding Tony’s head in his hands, peppering kisses over his face.

Tony pushed him away half-heartedly. “Hold on, I have a ring.”

“What?”

“A ring, I have a ring—” Tony hopped off the bed. “Pepper put it somewhere, I don’t even— ah, here it is.” He went to his knees in front of Stephen, holding out an open ring box. “This is for you.”

Stephen, tried to say something, but he kept stopping himself. He managed to take the ring and put it on before choking out, “Wait, I put it on my own hand, you’re supposed to do that!”

Tony smiled and tried to ignore the ticking clock in the back of his head.

* * *

“I think we should have the wedding on July 2nd,” Stephen said, looking at venues on his computer.

Tony didn’t look up, sitting in one of his cars while he waited for Jarvis to finish searching. “Why?”

“It's the exact middle of the year. It's all symbolic.”

“What's it symbolic of?”

Stephen considered it. “We’ll be starting the second half of our lives together.”

“You just made that up.”

“Yeah.”

Tony looked off, seeing nothing as he thought of the black veins spreading over his chest. “I don’t want to wait that long. Y’know what we should do? Let’s just go to Vegas and elope. Then if you want to do the whole big wedding thing, we can do it later.”

Stephen seemed surprised, but not upset. “I guess that’s okay, but we should probably wait until this thing with Vanko has blown over.”

Tony held his gaze before ducking his head, nodding. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Still, not a whole lot of time before you have to be back to New York.”

“It’s not like Vegas is the only place in the country you can elope, Tony,” Stephen teased. He’d been in a good mood ever since Tony proposed in spite of the PR mayhem that was the Grand Prix and Tony being . . . well, him. Tony wondered how long it was going to last. “Besides, I’m not even sure we can get married in Nevada. ‘Sanctity of marriage’, and all that bullshit.”

“Really? In Vegas?”

“I know. You should write them a strongly-worded letter.”

“I will.”

A hologram popped up in front of Tony’s car, showing information about Vanko. “Query complete, sir,” Jarvis chimed. “Anton Vanko was a Soviet physicist who defected to the United States in nineteen-sixty-three. However, he was accused of espionage and was deported in nineteen-sixty-seven. His son Ivan, also a physicist, was convicted of selling Soviet-era weapons grade plutonium to Pakistan, and served 15 years in Kopeisk prison. No further records exist.”

“Sounds charming,” Stephen sneered, not noticing the empty look on Tony’s face.

Tony started to respond until the workshop’s door opened. Rhodey came in, immediately speaking. “Tony, you gotta get upstairs and get on top of this situation right now.”

Tony sighed, looking at his hands. How was he so tired? Things had been going so well. _Thought I could handle it. Almost seems funny._

“Tony,” Rhodey said insistently, looking between him and Stephen, who only shrugged. Rhodey shook his head, making his way over to Tony as he spoke. “I have been on the phone with the National Guard all day, trying to talk them out of rolling tanks up the PCH, knocking down your front door and taking _these_.” He pointed at the row of suits that lined the wall. “They’re gonna _take_ your suits, Tony, okay? They’re sick of the games.”

Tony didn’t respond.

“Tony, come on. You said nobody else would possess this technology for 20 years. Well, guess what? Somebody else had it _yesterday_. It’s not theoretical anymore.” He looked at Tony worriedly, setting a careful hand on his shoulder. Tony flinched. “Are you listening to me? Are you okay?”

Tony tried to smile. “Let’s go.” He started to get out of the car, leaning an arm on the side before his legs gave out. He fell to the ground.

“Tony!” Stephen shot up, pushing his laptop away before running to Tony, holding him up on one side while Rhodey got the other.

“You all right?” Rhodey asked, looking over him. There were bags under Tony’s eyes to accompany his messy hair and clothes — far from the carefully polished man he showed the public.

Tony nodded, too quick for it to seem natural. “Yeah, I just . . . can you help me get to my desk?” They helped him over until Tony was close enough to slide into the chair. “Hand me that box. It has palladium in it.” He popped out the arc reactor while Rhodey opened the box and Stephen stroked his hair protectively. Whiffs of smoke arose from the burnt palladium core.

Rhodey stared. “Is that supposed to be smoking?”

Tony waved him off. “It’s neutron damage. It’s from the reactor wall.”

“That’s not an _answer_ , Tony,” Stephen said, resting Tony’s head against his stomach.

Rhodey took the ruined core and handed Tony a fresh one. “You had this in your body?”

Tony turned away without answering, fixing the new core into the reactor. Rhodey watched him, seeing the faint blue lines that were leaking onto his throat. “And how about the high-tech puzzle on your neck?”

“Road rash.” Tony shifted his shirt to cover it and took the core from Rhodey. “Thanks.” His voice seemed quieter than normal. He fit the arc reactor back into its casing, leaning back into Stephen’s hands, reaching out to grab one of the smoothies U made him. Rhodey was still watching him. Tony moved further away from them and brushing Stephen’s hand away. “What are you looking at?”

“I’m looking at _yo_ ,” Rhodey said, his face serious. “You think you have to do this on your own, but you _don’t_.”

“He’s right, Tony,” Stephen said softly. “You have us, and Pepper, and even that annoying redhead.”

“I know that, okay?” Tony said tiredly, not facing them. “I do. But you’ve gotta trust me. Contrary to popular belief, I do know what I’m doing.”

* * *

Tony traced his fingers over the darkening veins of his chest, looking at Jarvis’s readings. _Palladium Contamination: Eighty-nine percent._

“Do you know which watch you’d like to wear tonight, Mister Stark?” Natalie asked, sweeping into his room with a box in her hands.

Tony quickly buttoned up his shirt, dismissing the readings. “I’ll give them a look.”

Natalie set the box down, grabbing a mixer to make a drink. Tony’s hand lingered on the last button, brushing over his clothed chest. “I should cancel the party.”

Natalie poured the drink. “Probably.”

“Yeah. ‘Cause it’s . . .”

“Ill-timed.”

Tony nodded once, looking away. “Right. Sends the wrong message.”

“Inappropriate.” Natalie handed him a drink, which Tony gratefully sipped, needing something to take his mind off of the ticking time bomb in his chest. “Perfect. Go ahead and bring over the watches. No time like the present.”

Natalie did as he asked, handing him the box before raising a makeup compact, using it to help cover the bruises on his cheek. Tony smiled softly. “Thanks.” He tried to look over the watches, finding it hard to care. “Stephen’d probably care more. I should ask him what he thinks.”

“He’d like that.”

Tony chuckled. “Yeah.” He looked up at her curiously, her fingers still dabbing makeup around his eyes. “I gotta say, it’s hard to get a read on you. Where are you from?”

“Legal.”

“Hm. Can I ask you a question, hypothetically?”

Natalie leaned back, snapping her compact shut. She had that soft half-smile of hers — alluring, a bit mysterious. It reminded him of Stephen in a way, although when Stephen had that look, it usually meant he was laughing at you.

“Bit odd. If this was your last birthday party you were ever gonna have, how would you celebrate it?”

Natalie didn’t stop to consider. “I’d do whatever I wanted to do with whoever I wanted to do it with.” When she left, Tony sat in his chair for a while before finishing his drink.

* * *

Stephen ignored his drink, barely able to conceal his wince as he watched Tony.

_Tony._

Tony was laughing too loudly, smiling too hard, to be anything but drunk, dancing stupidly in the Iron Man suit. From the stage, everyone at the party could see him. They were all grinning as he embarrassed himself in front of them. Stephen couldn’t tell if they were laughing with or at him.

Pepper was standing with Stephen, much less able to hide her feelings. She was also the only one to congratulate him on his engagement ring. He hadn't bought it up to anyone else.

Stephen tried for a smile when he saw Rhodey, weaving his way through the crowd to where they were sitting. “Hey guys.” He did a double-take when he saw Tony. “What the hell is going on?”

“Tony’s embarrassing himself,” Stephen said. “It’s fairly self-explanatory.”

“I’m gonna go outside and get some air,” Pepper said, leaving without further explanation.

Stephen groaned. “Great, now if I go, it’s going to be too obvious.”

Rhodey seemed less annoyed than outright angry. “This is fucking ridiculous, I _just_ stuck my neck out for this guy!”

“I know.” He winced when Tony fell over in the suit, resisting the urge to facepalm.

Rhodey’s mouth thinned in disgust. “That’s it, I’m calling—”

“No!” Stephen said. He was as upset as Rhodey, but he knew how important this was to Tony. “He’s just stressed and drunk, it’s not—”

“Well he needs to get under control. Look at him, he’s fucking around in a suit that could level an army!”

“Only a small one.” Stephen stood up. “I’ll handle him, don’t worry.”

“You better.”

Stephen brushed through the crowd, walking up to Tony, who was speaking into a microphone. “You know, the question I get asked most often is, ‘Tony, how do you go to the bathroom in the suit?’” He closed his eyes. “Just like—”

Stephen pulled the microphone from him, smiling out at the party. “I think that’s enough information, Tony.”

“Hey!” Tony said, pulling Stephen to him. “Missed you.”

“Yeah, okay, thank you, Tony, for such a wonderful party, and thank everyone for coming, but we’re going to have to say good night now.”

He started to step down from the stage, ignoring the guests’ disappointed grumbling, but Tony shook his head, running his hands over Stephen’s arms insistently. “No, no, no, it’s not time yet, we haven’t even had cake.”

Stephen lowered the microphone, whispering harshly, “No, okay? We are going to bed and everyone is leaving, _now_.”

“Ooh, feisty.”

“Yeah, no. Just send everyone out, okay?”

Tony shrugged. “If you say so.”

“Thank you.” He handed Tony the microphone, quickly returning to Rhodey’s side.

“Unfortunately, Stephen is right. The party’s over.”

Stephen smiled appeasingly at Rhodey. “See? It’s fine.”

“Then again,” Tony said, “the party was over for me, like, an _hour_ ago. The _after-party_ , however, starts in fifteen minutes!”

Stephen studiously ignored the ‘I-told-you-so’ look Rhodey was shooting him.

“And if anybody, _Stephen_ , doesn’t like it, there’s the door!” Tony pointed at the door, accidentally blasting it with a repulsor. Tony tumbled back, but quickly smiled, laughing to the cheering crowd.

Disgusted, Stephen snapped, “I’m going to bed.” He turned his back on Tony, who was too busy shooting at bottles that people threw up in the air to notice.

“Good idea,” Rhodey said, heading to the stairs.

* * *

Tony winced walking up the stairs, his back and arm smarting from his fight with Rhodey. _At least everyone got out in time._ Granted, his house was half-destroyed, Rhodey had taken one of his suits, and he was pretty sure his best friends hated him, but win-some, lose-some.

 _Let him have it_ , Tony thought, making it to his bedroom. _He’ll need it more than me soon, anyway._ He tried to open the door, but it was locked. _Stephen._ He knocked, calling, “Stephen? Stephen, can you get the door?”

There was no answer.

Tony knocked harder. “Stephen! Come on, this isn’t funny!”

“Do _not_ talk to me right now, Tony!” Stephen shouted.

Tony looked at the door wide-eyed before pounding on the door with his unhurt arm. “Stephen! Open the door, Stephen! I need to get in! Jarvis! Jarvis, open the door!”

Jarvis didn’t respond.

“God damn— Stephen! Stephen, please, just open the door!” He kept beating the door, eyes burning. “Stephen, please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Stephen!” He slid down the door, falling against it. “I’m so sorry.”

* * *

Well, his birthday might have been a disaster, but at least he still had donuts. Donuts didn’t steal his suit or lock him out of his own room. Donuts forgave him for his alcohol and self-destruction fueled mistakes. Really, he could stay sitting in the giant donut forever—

“Sir!” Nick Fury, world’s most annoying super spy, called out. “I’m gonna have to ask you to exit the doughnut!”

_This really is the worst day._

* * *

“I told you,” Tony said, sitting inside the donut shop with Fury, “I don’t wanna join your super-secret boy band.”

“No,” Fury mocked, “of course not. You do everything yourself. How’s that working for you again?”

“It’s . . . it’s . . .” Tony sighed. “I’m sorry, do I look at the patch or the eye? I don’t really . . . honestly, I’m kind of hungover — and that’s saying something, I drink all the time and I haven’t been hungover in months — and I’m not a hundred percent sure it you’re real or not.”

“I am _very_ real. I’m the realest person you’re ever gonna meet.”

“Just my luck. Where’s the staff here?” Tony turned to look, accidentally giving Fury a view of the creeping black veins on his neck.

“That’s not looking so good,” Fury said, never losing his casual, almost happy tone. He seemed to have a permanent smirk etched into his face that Tony hated.

“I’ve been worse.”

The shop’s door opened. Tony froze when he heard the voice of the agent that walked in. “We’ve secured the perimeter but I don’t think we should hold it for too much longer.” Natalie stood next to Fury, smiling down at him.

 _You’ve got to be fucking kidding me._ To ‘Natalie’, he said, “You’re fired.”

“That’s not up to you.” She sat next to Fury, dressed in a skin-tight black bodysuit with the SHIELD logo emblazoned on the chest.

“Tony,” Fury said, “I want you to meet Agent Romanoff.”

Tony stared at her. “Hi.”

“I’m a SHIELD shadow,” Romanoff explained, never once dropping her smile or warm, self-assured tone. “Once we knew you were ill, I was tasked to you by Director Fury.”

“You’ve been very busy,” Fury said. “You made your assistant CEO, you’re trying to get married before you can say ‘I do’, you’re giving away all your stuff. You let your friend fly away with your suit. Now, if I didn’t know better—”

“You _don’t_ know better,” Tony snapped. “I didn’t give it to him. He took it.”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Fury said, throwing his hands up exaggeratedly. “He _took_ it? You’re _Iron Man_ , and he just _took it?_ The little brother walked in there, kicked your ass and _took your suit?!_ ” He turned to Romanoff. “Is that possible?”

“Well, according to Mister Stark’s database security guidelines—” _Oh great, I have to re-code everything_ “—there are redundancies to prevent unauthorized usage.”

Fury smiled smugly at Tony, his point made. Tony stared at them, shoulders slumping tiredly. “What do you want from me?”

“What do we want from you?” Fury repeated. “What do _you_ want from me?” Romanoff stood, walking off without explanation. “You have become a problem, a problem I have to deal with. Contrary to your belief, you are not in fact the center of my universe. I have bigger problems than you in the southwest region to deal with!” Romanoff returned as quietly as she’d left, holding a syringe. Fury gestured to Tony. “Hit him.”

Before Tony could ask what the fuck he was talking about, Romanoff’s hand shout out, jabbing his neck with the syringe and injecting.

Tony jerked back. “Oh God, are gonna steal my kidney and sell it?! Could you _please_ not do anything awful for five seconds?! What did she just do to me?!”

“What did we just do _for_ you?” Fury said. “That’s lithium dioxide. It’s gonna take the edge off. We’re trying to get you back to work.”

Tony looked at the empty syringe in Romanoff’s hands, looking between her and the pirate knockoff. “Just give me a couple of boxes of that, I’ll be right as rain.”

“It’s not a cure,” Romanoff told him, “it just abates the symptoms.”

“Doesn’t look like it’s gonna be an easy fix,” Fury said.

Tony hadn’t thought it was possible for him to feel any lower. _And yet . . ._ He tried to shrug it off, saying, “Trust me, I know. I’m good at this stuff. I’ve been looking for a suitable replacement for palladium. I’ve tried every combination, every permutation of every known element.”

Fury smiled. “Well, I’m here to tell you, you haven’t tried them all.”

* * *

Stephen made his way down the stairs in his bathrobe, ignoring the half-destroyed state of the mansion. He stopped in his tracks in the living room, staring at the people in black suits talking to each other and staring out the windows before seeing a man with an eyepatch and a long black coat speaking to—

“Tony,” Stephen said, immediately drawing his fiance’s attention. “Who the fuck are these people?”

Eyepatch-man gave Tony a look. “Sort this out.”

“Yeah, okay. Hey, Doctor Sexy, do you mind coming in the kitchen for a moment?”

Stephen was still pretty pissed at him, but he also did _not_ like the way eyepatch-man was looking at him. “Fine.” He kept an eye ( _Ha, eye . . . I’m spending too much time with Tony_ ) on the man in the coat, barely beating Tony to the kitchen. Not that they had much privacy. The door was gone. And some walls. And it was already an open-floor room, so it wasn’t like they would have had much to begin with.

He should have suggested they went outside.

“Tony,” Stephen said, glancing at the people milling around the living room, “what the hell is going on?”

Tony thought about how he could play this off, but quickly realized he couldn’t. “Okay, don’t freak out, but, long story short, I’m dying.”

“What?!” Stephen shouted, staring at Tony.

Tony held his hands up placatingly. “But it’s _fine_ , because these nice shady government agents have brought some stuff to help me figure out how to not die.”

“How are you dying in the first place, why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Stephie, calm down—”

“Calm down?! What kind of bullshit—”

“It’s fine!” Tony insisted, trying to grab Stephen’s wrists, but he kept pushing him away. “It’s nothing! It’s just that the palladium in the arc reactor is kind of poisoning me—”

“ _Take it out!_ ”

“It’s not that simple! Surgery would probably be fatal. But that’s why we’re trying to find a replacement for the palladium! Nick, help me out here!”

“Stark’s right,” Fury said, casually leaning back in a chair as he listened to their conversation (which, now that they looked, seemed to be what most of the SHIELD agents were doing). “Why don’t we go outside and talk about?”

Tony looked at Stephen appeasingly, gesturing to Fury. Stephen was giving Tony a dirty look, but he walked past him and nodded to Fury. “Fine.”

They sat outside by the pool, which was relatively untouched by the destruction of the house, and secluded from the other agents. Stephen sat next to Tony, though he refused to look at him. Fury seemed at most mildly amused by them, sitting back in a lounge chair as he explained, “That _thing_ in your chest is based on unfinished technology.”

Stephen snapped towards Tony. “You put that in your chest, and it’s not even finished?”

 _What is this, yell at Tony day?_ He shook his head. “No, it was finished. The arc reactor was never particularly effective until I miniaturized it and put it in my—”

“No,” Fury said. “Howard said the arc reactor was the stepping stone to something greater. He was about to kick off an energy race that was gonna dwarf the arms race. He was on to something big, something so big that it was gonna make the nuclear reactor look like a triple-A battery.”

“Just him, or was Anton Vanko in on this too?” Tony asked, remembering what Jarvis told him about Ivan’s father.

“Anton Vanko is the other side of that coin. He saw it as a way to get rich. When your father found out, he had him deported. When the _Russians_ found out he couldn’t deliver, they shipped his ass off to Siberia and he spent the next twenty years in a vodka-fueled rage. Not quite the environment you want to raise a kid in.”

“What does this have to do with anything?” Stephen demanded. “We’re supposed to be keeping Tony _alive_. Vanko doesn’t matter.”

Tony half-nodded. “Well, it kind of matters, but we’ll circle back to it.” He looked to Fury. “You told me I hadn’t tried everything. What do you mean I haven’t tried everything? What _haven’t_ I tried?”

“He even tried embarrassing himself in front of dozens of people and destroying his house,” Stephen quipped, glaring at Tony before returning his attention to Fury, who was trying (and failing) to hide his laughter.

Fury cleared his throat. “Howard said that you were the only person with the means and knowledge to finish what he started.”

Tony stilled, staring at Fury. Quietly, he asked, “He said that?” A moment later, Tony shook his head, his tone mocking. “I don’t know where you get your information, but he wasn’t my biggest fan.”

Fury tilted his head, calculating. “What do you remember about your dad?”

Tony shook his head slightly, looking out across the ocean view before returning his attention to them. “He was cold, he was calculating. He never told me he loved me. He never even told me he liked me, so it’s a little _tough_ for me to digest when you’re telling me he said the whole future was riding on me and he’s passing it down. _I don’t get that._ You’re talking about a guy whose happiest day was when he shipped me off to boarding school.”

Stephen looked at Tony out of the corner of his eye, setting a gentle hand on his arm. Tony didn’t react.

“That’s not true,” Fury said, seeming serious for the first time.

Tony scoffed. “Well, then, clearly you knew my dad better than I did.”

Behind Fury, two SHIELD agents came out carrying a large silver case. Not looking at them, Fury said, “As a matter of fact, I did. He was one of the founding members of SHIELD.”

Tony started, sitting up straight. “What?”

Fury looked at his watch, standing up. “I got a two o’clock.”

Tony, stood up with him, looking at the case with a what-the-hell expression. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, what’s this?”

Fury ignored his question, gesturing to the case. “Okay, you’re good, right? You got this? Right?”

Tony and Stephen shared a ‘do _you_ know what he’s talking about’ look before Tony said, “No, I’m not _good_ , what am I even supposed to get?”

“Natasha will remain a floater at Stark with her cover intact, and you remember Agent Coulson, right?” he said, gesturing to the agents who had joined them outside.

Stephen stared at ‘Natasha’. “I knew I didn’t like you.”

Natasha smiled what Tony had named her ‘I’m a spy and you can’t stop me’ smile. “You weren’t subtle.” As Fury left, she told Tony and Stephen, “We’ve disabled all communications. No contact with the outside world. Good luck.” She followed her boss without further explanation, leaving Stephen to wonder if he should feel smug or just pissed that they were essentially being held prisoner.

* * *

Tony and Stephen set to work on going through the box, sorting its contents into piles of blueprints, newspaper articles, notebooks, and video reels. They worked in silence until Stephen said, “You never told me about your dad.”

Tony glanced over at Stephen. He wasn’t even looking up, too busy trying to decide if the blueprints he was looking at were important or not. Tony spoke shrugged, keeping his tone light. “Well, now you know.”

Stephen nodded once, setting the flimsy blue paper to the side, apparently having decided it wasn’t of use. “I’m glad I know.”

“Yeah,” Tony said. He had to swallow past the lump in his throat.

Stephen seemed content to leave it at that, but now that Tony was thinking about it . . . “Do you have family?” Stephen had never mentioned any relatives. It was almost as though he had appeared fully-formed in New York with a scalpel in his hand.

“Yes,” Stephen said. “But my sister died before I went to college, and I haven't talked to my parents or brother in years.”

Tony frowned. “Why not?”

“Oh, I don't know. Something about the words 'if you walk out that door, don't even think of coming back’ just make a person feel unwelcome for some reason.” He smiled at Tony’s uncomfortable look. “Don’t worry about it, Tony. It was my choice, in the end.”

“ _How?_ Why did they even . . .”

“Well, let’s just say they wouldn’t be happy to see me with you.”

 _Oh._ Tony tried to say something, but for once, words escaped him.

Stephen shrugged. “It’s not that big a deal. I could have stayed. It wouldn't have been the worst thing ever. I’m still attracted to women, I could have hidden this part of me if I wanted to. But I knew that, one way or the other, there was no going back once I made that choice. And I couldn't see spending the rest of my life pretending to be something I wasn't. So I didn’t.”

“I'm sorry,” Tony said, because really, what the fuck? Who did that to their own kid? At least his parents just ignored whoever he brought home (and him, for that matter).

“Don't be. I left because I could never be safe or happy there. Now I'm both.”

“I make you happy?” Tony asked, surprised. That was about the last thing he’d expected to hear after the past week.

Stephen smiled. “ _Very_ happy. When you’re not being a complete asshole, that is.”

“Oh, so partial-asshole is still fine?”

“Don’t push it.”

Tony smiled slightly, leaning back. “Is there anything else I don't know about you?”

Stephen tilted his head, considering. “I was briefly in a cult in college.”

“What?”

Stephen shrugged, acting as though he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on Tony’s head. “Well, it started as a study group.” When he saw Tony’s stunned expression, he tried to explain. “It wasn't a _dangerous_ cult. Mostly just orgies.”

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

Stephen smirked. “You tell me. Do you want to watch some of these reels?”

“Hang on—”

“This one looks good.”

“Don’t change the subject—”

“Try and stop me.”

* * *

Stephen flipped through a notebook, Howard Stark’s words echoing through his head. _Tony. You’re too young to understand this right now, so I thought I would put it on film for you. I built this for you. And someday you’ll realize that it represents a whole lot more than just people’s inventions. It represents my life’s work. This is the key to the future. I’m limited by the technology of my time, but one day you’ll figure this out. And when you do, you will change the world. What is and always will be my greatest creation is you._ Where the hell did he get off on saying things like that about the son he barely cared about? Even beyond the grave, Tony’s father was fucking with his head. Tony’s been so upset that he decided to ‘take a break’ and drove off to S.I. to speak to Pepper. Not that Stephen was jealous of Tony’s friend who’d been part of his life long before him, but it wasn’t as though Tony had properly apologized to _him_ , so . . . Actually, he was jealous, and he was going to stay that way for the foreseeable future. Yes, that sounded good.

Of course, he forgot about that when Tony burst into the house, wild-eyed and carrying the model for the 1974 Stark Expo in pieces. “Stephen, get the workshop door!” When Stephen just stared at him, he shouted, “C’mon, we’ve got a busy day ahead of us, move it!”

“Don’t yell at me like that,” Stephen said, though he did what Tony asked, following him curiously into the workshop.

Tony dropped the boards of the model onto a table, sorting them into the right order. “Jarvis, if you could kindly Vac-U-Form a digital wire frame? I need a manipulatable projection.”

Jarvis scanned the model, forming a bright blue hologram of it over the physical copy. “Nineteen-seventy-four Stark Expo model scan complete, sir.”

Tony moved the hologram away from the model, walking around it intently. “How many buildings are there?”

“Am I to include the Belgium waffle stands?”

“Just show me.” He snapped his fingers, sending the model spinning before he moved it upright.

Stephen stared at the hologram, squinting. “Is it just me, or does that look like an atom?”

Tony nodded. “In which case the nucleus would be . . . here.” He tapped on the middle of the model, allowing a blue dot to ‘stick’ to his hand. “J, highlight the unisphere.” Tony pulled the orange-lit building forward, separating it from the rest. “Lose the footpaths.”

As Tony wiped them away, Jarvis asked, “What is it you’re trying to achieve, sir?”

“I think I know what he’s doing, J,” Stephen said, standing behind Tony.

“I’ll tell you anyway,” Tony said. “I’m discovering . . . Correction. I’m _re_ discovering a new element. Lose the landscaping, the shrubbery, the trees. Parking lots, exits, entrances.” Tony flicked away more and more of the hologram, leaving them with only the bare bones. “Structure protons and neutrons using the pavilions as a framework.” Tony covered his mouth, staring at the hologram as it all came together, the model forming a nucleus. Tony threw his hands out, expanding it until it filled the room.

“Will that do it?” Stephen asked, looking around them. “Can it save you?”

Tony swirled around in his chair, nodding before he clapped his hands together, making the model small enough to fit in his hand. “Jarvis, what do you think?”

“The proposed element _should_ serve as a viable replacement for palladium,” Jarvis told them.

Tony grinned, feeling genuinely happy for the first time in days. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Unfortunately,” Jarvis said, because they weren’t allowed to be happy for two seconds, “it is impossible to synthesize.”

Not that Tony was going to let something like that stop him. “Get ready for a major remodel, fellas,” he jumped out of his chair. “We’re back in hardware mode.”

* * *

_This is the life,_ Stephen thought, leaning back in a chair and watching while Tony smashes in what remained of the walls and drilled into the floor, rewiring the house to accommodate the new synthesizer.

Tony, apparently realizing that Stephen wasn’t actually helping, stopped in the middle of dropping wires down the brand new hole in the living room to stare at him. “What are you doing?”

Stephen sipped his drink. “Watching porn.”

“Stephen, I can destroy things later if you want, but right now could you be helping?”

“No, I feel like I’ve done enough. I’m good being moral support for a while. Besides, can’t risk messing up these hands.”

“ _I’m_ gonna mess you up later.”

Stephen purred.

“Stop that.”

“Nope. See if you can bend over a bit more. That’s the view.”

* * *

“Okay,” Tony said, standing back. “We now officially have a personal particle accelerator.” He handed Stephen a pair of blue-tinted goggles. “Stand behind me.”

“This feels familiar,” Stephen said.

“Later. Jarvis, fire it up!”

The accelerator started humming as it turned on, blue lights running the length of it. “Initializing prismatic accelerator,” Jarvis said. Tony stood behind the middle of the machine, pulling on a wheel, barely budging it. “Approaching maximum power,” Jarvis warned.

The machine was shaking Tony’s arms. Unable to move it further, he smacked Stephen’s chest, pointing. “Hand me that wrench.”

Stephen passed it to him, and Tony managed to turn the wheel, although not in time to stop the laser from cutting a line through the wall, ruining several cabinets, shelves, really that entire side of the room.

“Oops,” Tony said, finally concentrating the beam on its target, a small metal triangle that began filling up with blue light, slowly at first, but soon growing over-powering in its intensity. The room filled the light, blinding them before Tony shut off the accelerator.

“Huh. That was easy.”

Stephen lowered his goggles. “Remind me to call a contractor before I go back to New York.”

“I’ll probably forget.” He ducked under one of the tubes of the accelerator to examine the element. It was still glowing blue, but the light wasn’t overpowering them any more. Tony grabbed some pliers to pick it up, gesturing for Stephen to hand him the new arc reactor he’d made for it.

“Congratulations, sir,” Jarvis said as Tony set the new core in place. “You have created a new element.” The arc reactor whirred slightly, glowing blue before beeping frantically. “Sir, the reactor has accepted the modified core. I will begin running diagnostics.”

“You did it,” Stephen said quietly.

Tony smiled at him. “I did, didn’t I?” He set the new reactor to the side and stood up. “Hopefully now we can focus on happy things. Interesting new sex positions. Wedding planning.”

“Sounds good,” Stephen said, allowing his smile to fall when Tony turned his back.

* * *

“Jesus Christ, Dum-E, U, can we clean up this mess?” Dum-E whirred questioningly. Tony shook his head. “You’re killing me. Doc, do they listen to you? They’re not—”

Jarvis interrupted him. “Incoming call with a blocked number sir.”

Tony whirled around in his swivel chair, looking at a screen. “Huh. My phone privilege is reinstated. Lovely.” Tony answered it, thinking he knew who it was. “Coulson, how’s the Land of Enchantment?”

“Hey, Tony,” a man’s voice said in a thick accent.

Stephen and Tony shared a look. _Fuck._

“How you doing?” Ivan asked affably. “I double cycle.”

“You what?” Tony asked, putting a finger over his mouth to keep Stephen from speaking. Stephen rolled his eyes and mouthed, ‘Yeah, no shit’.

“You told me double cycle’s more power,” Ivan said. “Good advice.”

Stephen looked at Tony, mouthing, ‘The fuck are you doing giving advice to people who want to kill you?’

He didn’t think Tony got it.

“You sound pretty sprightly for a dead guy,” Tony said, quickly muting his speaker. “Trace him, J.” He turned it back on.

Ivan didn’t seem to notice anything. “Now, the true history of Stark name will be written.”

“Jarvis, where is he?” Tony whispered.

Jarvis brought up a map on one of the screens. “Accessing the Oracle grid. Eastern Seaboard.”

“What your father did to my family over forty _years_ , I will do to you in forty _minutes_.”

“Sounds good. Let’s get together and hash it out.”

“Tri-State area,” Jarvis said, singling in on a location. “Manhattan and outlying boroughs.”

“I hope you’re ready,” Ivan said ominously before hanging up.

The map stopped changing. “Call trace incomplete.”

Tony sighed. “Fuck.”

“That can’t be a coincidence, right?” Stephen asked. “That he’s in New York during the Expo?”

“Yeah . . .” Tony said, opening up the website for the Expo. The first article was about Justin Hammer’s presentation. _There’s no way he’s competent enough to do that on his own._ Well, far be it from Iron Man to sit back while Hammer and Vanko fuck shit up. Tony removed the arc reactor from his chest and picked up the new one, quickly fitting it into his chest.

“Tony!” Stephen shouted at the same time Jarvis said, “ _Sir._ ”

Tony ignored them, pushing the reactor into the case. “You want to run some tests, run them. And Jarvis, assemble the suit while you’re at it. Put it together now.”

“We are unclear as to the effects.”

Tony, shook his head, rolling his neck as he felt the reactor take effect. “I don’t want to hear it, Jarvis!” The arc reactor was gaining power. Tony’s eyes widened, his pupils blown. “Oh, that tastes like coconut. _And metal_. Oh _fuck_ , yeah!”

* * *

“I’ve got to get to New York,” Tony said, running up the stairs and throwing open the bedroom door.

“Yeah, I got that,” Stephen said, following him. “But why aren’t you getting in the suit?”

“Do you want to come with me?” Tony looked up at him, holding Stephen’s eyes.

“Of course,” Stephen said, never considering another course. “I can’t let you go in there alone.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.” Tony went through Stephen’s stuff, throwing clothes left and right before finding a sweater, a leather jacket, boots, and a pair of gloves. “We have motorcycle helmets, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

Tony tossed him the clothes. “How long do you think you can hold onto something?”

* * *

_This is a terrible idea, this is a terrible idea, this is a terrible idea—_ Stephen barely thought anything else while they flew through the air to New York, alternating between Stephen lying flat along Tony’s back with his arms around Tony’s chest and Tony carrying him with Stephen’s head buried in the suit’s neck.

“You okay?” Tony asked, never loosening his hold on his boyfriend.

Stephen tried to nod. “More or less. Are we almost there?”

“About to land. I’ll drop you off outside, you try to find Pepper and Happy and stay safe, okay?”

“No arguments!”

The Expo was lit up with blue and white lights, showing off dozens of centers for inventions. Tony lowered himself enough to drop Stephen off outside the building for Hammer’s presentation, ignoring the looks and shouts directed towards them. “See you in a bit.” Tony immediately shot back into the sky, flying over the building.

Stephen took a moment to gather himself and remove the motorcycle helmet before running inside the roofless building, pushing past people asking him questions. He ignored Hammer’s speech, scanning the crowd for Pepper. On the stage were dozens of Hammer’s drones, separated into groups based on what part of the military they were for. Rhodey was in the center in his stolen suit, weapons piled onto it by Hammer, who was still speaking for some inexplicable reason. “For America and its allies, Hammer Industries is reporting for—”

A noise boomed through the courtyard. The entire audience turned to watch as Tony flew over them, standing in front of Hammer and superhero-landing on stage. The crowd cheered for Tony as he walked forward, saying something to quiet for them to make out.

Stephen finally found Pepper and Natasha. “We have a problem.”

Pepper started. “Stephen, what the hell are you two doing here?”

“Vanko’s alive, he’s in New York, and he’s planning something very not-good, possibly with Justin Hammer helping him, does that about sum it up?”

On stage, Tony left Rhodey’s side to talk to Hammer, demanding, “Where is he?”

Hammer played dumb ( _Probably not hard for him_ ). “What?”

“Where’s Vanko?”

“Who?”

Natasha and Pepper stared along with Stephen. _This is not going to end well._

Justin asked Tony why he was there just as one of Rhodey’s guns activated and locked in on Tony, Rhodey himself unmoving.

Tony held up a defensive hand. “Is that you?”

Stephen couldn’t hear his response, but he definitely saw it when Hammer’s drones simultaneously took aim on Tony.

Tony took off into the air. “Let’s take it outside.” Rhodey and the drones fired on him, quickly following as the screaming crowd dispersed.

Tony flew through the air, barely avoiding the drones’ fire while drawing them away from the crowds. Rhodey desperately shouted out directions to Tony, who was kind of busy trying to hack into his suit.

“This isn’t how I expected to spend the night,” Stephen said, following Justin Hammer with Pepper and Natasha.

They came up on him just as a technician said, “He’s locked us out of the mainframe.”

“Who’s _locked_ you out of the mainframe?” Pepper demanded, approaching Hammer as fast as she could in her heels.

Hammer waved them off. “Please, please, go away. _Go away._ I’ve got this handled.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “Justin, I sincerely doubt you’ve ever handled anything correctly in your life.”

Hammer bristled defensively. “You know, if your guy hadn’t showed up, this wouldn’t be happening. So, please, now _go away!_ ” He turned away and whispered something to his technician before Natasha grabbed him and held him down on the desk. “OW!”

“You tell me who’s behind this,” Natasha said, her voice slipping into a slight accent that Stephen didn’t recognize. “Who’s behind this?”

Hammer grunted in pain, saying, “Ivan, Ivan Vanko.”

“Told you,” Stephen said.

Natasha ignored him. “Where is he?”

Justin grit his teeth. “He’s at my facility.” He made a noise of relief as Natasha let him go, running off without them.

Pepper dialed something before speaking to her phone. “I need NYPD, please. Command Central.”

Hammer shook his head. "No, no, no, no, honey! Don’t call the authorities!”

Stephen gave him a hard look. “Justin, shut the fuck up before someone makes you happy there’s a surgeon here.”

Pepper ignored them both, saying, “Okay. Right away. Right away.” She lowered her phone, saying to Hammer, “Step aside. _Step aside._ ”

Hammer reluctantly moved out of her way, not seeming to know what else to do. Pepper leaned next to the technician. “Tell me everything you know.”

* * *

Tony weaved around the Expo, Rhodey and the drones ( _Not a bad band name— focus, fucking focus_ ) in close pursuit. “How are we doing Jarvis?”

“Remote reboot unsuccessful.”

“Why do you even tell me these things?”

On the ground, the flightless drones were firing weapons at the Expo buildings and fleeing crowds before stopping to join their brethren in trying to fuck up Tony’s life specifically.

Tony almost froze in the air when he saw a little kid in an Iron Man mask stop in front of a drone that couldn’t tell if he was the real thing or not. _Oh, Jesus._ Tony quickly changed direction as the kid didn’t move from his spot, instead holding up a hand with a replica glove on it.

Tony landed behind behind the boy with a loud _thump_ , blasting the drone apart with his repulsor. He looked at the kid with genuine respect, saying, “Nice work kid,” before taking off.

“You got multiples coming in on you,” Rhodey shouted to Tony, catching back up with him as Tony returned to the air.

“Got it, let’s them out of here.” Tony lead the drones away from the Expo and through a car garage before coming out the other side. He saw something that gave him an idea. “Rhodey, you still locked on?”

“Yeah.”

“Well then drop your socks and grab your Crocs, ‘cause we’re about to get wet on this ride.” Tony sped forward into a statue of a globe, moving through the ocean-shaped holes and escaping through the top just as the drones caught up with him, knocking themselves against the statue and each other, exploding in plumes or orange-yellow flame. He started to ask Rhodey where he was before he crashed into him, knocking them both through the roof of a biodome. “OW! Not okay—” Rhodey picked him up and threw him to the ground and straddling him, his gun firing wildly as Tony desperately pushed it away. “Rhodey, when you said you weren’t interested in a threesome, I didn’t realize it was because you wanted me for yourself—”

Rhodey’s suit shut down. The sudden lack of force pushing down on him made Tony accidentally blast them forward, landing further in the stream.

“Reboot complete,” Natasha’s voice sounded through the intercom. “You got your best friend back.”

Tony almost thanked her when she said, “Don’t celebrate yet. You got incoming. Looks like the fight’s coming to you.”

“Oh, great. No thanks for you. Romanoff, do you mind checking on Stephen and Pepper while I’m busy fending off a Hammeroid attack?”

“They seem to be safe. They’re with Hammer.”

“Oh, good grief.”

“Good luck.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tony tapped on Rhodey’s helmet, looking up at the sky and wondering how long they had. “Rhodes? Snap out of it buddy, I need you. They’re coming. Come on, let’s roll. Get up.” He kept knocking on the helmet, only stopping when it opened.

Rhodey blinked wearily, looking at Tony. “Oh, man. You can have your suit back.”

Tony smiled, helping him up. “You okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Rhodey looked at Tony, lowering his eyes slightly. “Tony, look, I’m sorry, okay?”

“Don’t be.”

“ _No._ You were right, I should have trusted you more.”

“I’m the one who put you in this position. Forget it.”

“No, it’s your fault, but I still wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Thank you. That’s all I wanted to hear.” Tony looked at the sky. “They’re coming in hot any second. What’s the play?”

Rhodey looked at the terrain. “Well, we want to take the high ground, okay? So let’s put the biggest gun up on that ridge.”

“Got you.” They both started walking forward. Tony didn’t quite notice Rhodey looking at him strangely. “Where do you want to be?”

“Where are you going?” Rhodey asked, stopping in his tracks.

“What’re you talking about?”

“I meant _me_ , _obviously_.”

“No, you _have_ a big gun. You are not _the_ big gun.”

“Tony, don’t be jealous.”

“No. It’s subtle, all the bells and whistles, not a metaphor or anything.”

“It’s called being a badass, learn it.”

“Fine. Alright.” He pointed uphill. “You go up top, I’ll draw ‘em in.”

Tony walked off, stopping again when Rhodey said, “Well don’t stay down here. This is the _worst_ place to be.”

“Oh okay, _you_ got a spot. Where’s mine?”

“This is the _kill box_ , Tony. Okay This is where you go to die.”

Naturally, that was when they heard the drones.

The Hammeroids surrounded them, each one landing with a loud metal _thump_. Tony sighed. “Oh, shit.”

* * *

Stephen watched the police officers lead Hammer away, sounding like a B-movie villain as he insisted that he would return, get revenge, blah blah blah.

Pepper meanwhile was speaking to some of the other officers who’d arrived, arranging for guards at the exits and transportation for everyone out. When she was done, a policeman asked her, “Are you coming with us?”

Pepper shook her head. “No, I’m gonna stay until to park is clear.”

“You go ahead, Pepper,” Stephen said, walking up to them. “I’ll stay behind for Tony. You deserve a break.”

Pepper laughed. “And you don’t?”

Stephen shrugged. “It’s fine. Tony’s kind of my ride anyway.”

“Ugh, Stephen, I do not want to hear about—”

“I didn’t mean _that_ ,” Stephen insisted. “Just go ahead okay, we’ll catch up with you later.”

Pepper relented, leaving with one of the officers. Stephen, by now tired enough to sleep on the way back to California, leaned against a pillar, looking out over the destruction and deactivated drones resting on the ground.

* * *

_That actually wasn’t that bad,_ Tony thought, looking around at the destroyed drones before scoffing. _Of course not, it’s Hammer tech. Jackass doesn’t know what he’s doing._

“Heads up,” Natasha said. “You got one more drone incoming. This one looks different. The repulsor signature is significantly higher.”

“Oh,” Tony said dully as the drone glowed in the sky, quickly landing in front of them. “I wonder who it could be.”

Ivan’s helmet folded down, showing his face. “Good to be back.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Tony muttered.

“This ain’t gonna be good,” Rhodey said.

As though summoned by Rhodey’s temptation of Fate, Ivan’s whips shot on, sparking white electricity.

“I got something special for this guy,” Rhodey said, stepping slightly in front of Tony. “I’m gonna bust his bunker with the Ex-Wife.”

“With the what?” Tony watched as a missile prepared to launch from Rhodey’s shoulder, whirring to life before firing dramatically and bouncing off Ivan without leaving a scratch and fizzing out in the water. “Hammer tech?”

“. . . Yeah.”

“Okay. I got this.”

He didn’t got this.

They both fired at Ivan, shooting from ground and sky, dodging as best they could, but it wasn’t long before they both had a whip around their neck, desperately pulling back to keep Ivan from getting any leverage—

Wait. Maybe he did got this.

“Rhodes, I got an idea. You want to be a hero? ‘Cause I could really use a sidekick.”

“What do I do?”

Tony raised his hand, aiming the repulsor at Rhodey. “Put your hand up.”

“ _This_ is your idea?”

“Yep.”

Seeming to realize they didn’t have any other plans, Rhodey said, “Okay, I’m ready.” He raised his gauntlet to Tony. “I’m ready, go, go, _go!_ ”

Ivan looked between them, obviously realizing they were planning something, but unable to gain any leverage or drop the whips and lose his weapons. He was caught in the middle when their repulsor blasts met each other, sending an explosive shockwave throughout the dome that shattered glass and blinded them.

When they could see again, Ivan was laughing weakly, his suit ruined around his body. “You lose.” As he died, his reactor started flashing red. The drones did the same.

_Fuck._

“C’mon!” Rhodey shouted, taking to the sky. Tony flew after him.

“Tony,” Natasha said over the com, “Stephen’s still there.”

“What?”

* * *

Stephen had almost fallen asleep standing up when he noticed the beeping. Which, wow, that would have been a good thing to notice when it started.

Before he could run, Tony landed beside him, drawing Stephen into his arms and launching them both into the sky as the drones exploded behind them.

Stephen screamed, wrapping tired arms around Tony’s neck and staring up at him.

“It’s okay!” Tony shouted as the explosions died down. “I’ve got you!”

Stephen panted, looking down. There were still flames burning along the Expo, waving threateningly at them. Stephen buried his head into Tony’s neck and didn’t let go.

* * *

“ _Not_ recommended!” Tony said as Stephen lounged by the pool, listening to him in amusement. “ _Not_ recommended, how can they not recommend me? Do you know how many people I just saved? SHIELD ought to beg me to join their boy band!”

“Well dear, you also endangered everyone at your birthday party.”

“That was last week. Let’s not live in the past.”

“I agree. So let’s move past this whole SHIELD thing and think of the future.”

“Oh, you’re so sneaky.”

“I’m also tired of listening to this. C’mon, don’t you have anything else to talk about?”

Tony sighed, sitting at the end of Stephen’s chair and pulling his legs into Tony’s lap. “Yes, actually.”

Stephen peered at him over his sunglasses. “Care to share with the class?”

Tony playfully smacked Stephen’s leg before speaking. “So, I checked, and we cannot get married in New York, California, _or_ Nevada. Figures. Feel like taking a trip to Massachusetts?”

Stephen felt his smile slip away. _Here we go._ “Not particularly.”

Tony shrugged, not noticing his change in tone or expression. “Fine. I can write to the governor. Ask for a special superhero exception. Throw a fit if they refuse. Might drum up some support for it.”

“Tony, we don’t need to go anywhere.”

Tony frowned at him. “Doc, I’m not sure you understand the legality of this—”

“Tony,” Stephen sat up, catching Tony by the wrist. “We don’t need to go anywhere because we’re not getting married.”

Tony stared at him, drawing his hand away from him. “But you said yes. Look at you, you’re wearing my ring, it’s right there on your hand.”

Stephen slid the ring off of his hand, holding it out to Tony.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Tony.” Stephen moved closer to him, cupping Tony’s cheek. “You didn't think you'd live long enough to actually _be_ married to me. I don’t want to marry you like that.”

“But I’m _fine_ now! Look, I got a brand new arc reactor, heart’s as good as it’s going to get, let’s do it, let’s get hitched!”

Stephen shook his head. “I can’t. I can’t marry you knowing what I do.”

“I can! It’ll be great!”

“Tony.” Stephen took Tony’s hand, forcing the ring into his palm and folding Tony’s hand over it. Stephen cupped Tony’s cheek. “Ask me when you mean it.”

“Please marry me?”

“Nice try.” Stephen leaned back in the chair.

Tony sighed, wondering how things had gone so downhill. “Guess it’s a good thing we put off making an announcement.”

“Yeah, that would’ve been bad.” Stephen looked at his fingers. “My hand feels kind of empty now.”

Tony was very tempted to say, ‘And whose fault is that?’ But he decided to be nice for once. He gestured at Stephen’s hand. “Here. Give it to me.”

“Tony, I swear, if you put my hand on your dick right now—”

“You’d love it,” Tony said with a cheeky grin. His smile changed to a soft one, and he kissed the palm of Stephen’s hand, setting it to rest on his face. “One day, I’m gonna put a ring on your hand and it’s gonna stay there.”

“I hope so,” Stephen said, leaning in to kiss Tony, nuzzling their noses.

They disentangled themselves after a while, resting on the lounge chairs that they pushed together because it was getting awkward sitting on just one together. Stephen rested on top of Tony, resting his head against the arc reactor. He looked up at Tony, smiling. “So,” Stephen said, “tell me about this tower you’re building.”


	4. The Avengers

_— 2012 —_

Tony placed the arc reactor on the pipeline, smiling slightly when it started glowing blue-green, before shooting out of the water.

“We’re good on this end,” Tony said, flying to his new home in Manhattan. “The rest is up to you.”

“You disconnected the transition lines?” Pepper asked, her face appearing on the HUD monitor inside the helmet. “Are we off the grid?”

“Stark Tower is about to become a beacon of self-sustaining clean energy.”

“Assuming the reactor takes over and it actually works?”

“I assume. Light her up.” _Ah, there we go._ Lights filled every room of the tower from bottom to top, ending with the STARK on the side blazing bright blue. “It’s like Christmas, but with more . . . _me_.”

Pepper shook her head, already thinking of the next thing. “We gotta go wider on the public awareness campaign. You need to do some press. I’m in DC tomorrow, I'm working on the zoning for the next billboards—”

“Pepper,” Tony interrupted, skating up the side of the tower, “you're killing me. Remember? Enjoy the moment.” He landed on the ‘beak’, as Stephen called it, of the penthouse, the machine made to remove the armor immediately coming to life.

“Sir,” Jarvis said, “Agent Coulson of SHIELD is on the line.”

“I'm not in,” Tony said, walking forward as the helmet was removed. “I'm actually out.”

“Sir, I'm afraid he's insisting.”

The chest piece of the armor went with the arms and back, leaving only the legs and boots. “Grow a spine, Jarvis. I got a date.”

The boots went last, and he was in the penthouse. Stephen and Pepper were standing in front of the monitors for the new reactor.

“Levels are holding steady,” Pepper said, cautiously hopeful. “I think.”

“Of course they are,” Tony said, “I was directly involved.”

“So really, we should be grateful it works at all,” Stephen said with his patented half-smile.

“No sass out of you, mister. We celebrating tonight.” There was a bottle ready for them. Sparkling cider. Non-alcoholic. It was one of his concessions for not talking to a therapist when Stephen insisted he should, but Tony knew he couldn't. Not then, maybe not ever.

So, concessions. Regular sleep. Eat well, not too much junk. And of course, no alcohol — both the mansion and the tower were completely dry, except for one bottle that Tony wasn't allowed to touch, open, or look at.

At least Stephen was suffering with him. Not that it affected him anywhere near as much as it did Tony, but he wasn't a hypocrite. He followed the same rules as Tony and complained way less than him.

Tony popped the bottle open, pouring three glasses before Pepper stopped him.

“Thanks, Tony, but I’m heading out early.” She stood to go, gathering her things.

“Why?” Tony asked as Stephen came to sit beside him, watching them with faint interest.  
“Stark Tower is your baby, don’t you want to celebrate it?”

“Right now I want to leave you two alone to celebrate.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Bye, Pepper,” Stephen said, sneaking his glass away from Tony and raising it to her. “See you . . . eventually.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Pepper waved lightly to them before leaving.

Stephen turned to Tony and smiled, plucking the glass out of his hand and setting them both down. “ _Now_ we can celebrate properly.”

“Trying to get in my pants, doc?” Tony asked, drawing Stephen to him and sliding down to the floor, situating himself comfortably under his boyfriend.

“Do I have to _try_ , now?” Stephen asked playfully, leaning down to kiss Tony’s neck, sucking on the spot until he was certain there would be a hickey the next day.

Tony chuckled, turning his head to the side to give Stephen more space to work with. “Don’t have to. But it makes me feel special.”

“Oh, of course.” Stephen leaned back on and pulled at Tony’s arm. “Get on your hands and knees.”

“Ooh, bossy, I like it.”

Just as Tony finished turning over and felt Stephen at his back, Jarvis ruined his day. “Sir, the telephone. I'm afraid my protocols are being overwritten.”

“Stark,” Coulson’s voice rang out from Tony’s cellphone, “we need to talk.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Stephen, hand me my phone.”

“I don’t know. I feel like it’ll just get in the way of us christening the tower.”

“I’m just gonna tell him to go away—”

The elevator dinged as it opened, revealing Phil Coulson.

“Security breach!” Tony said, looking up awkwardly. “Call Pepper, tell her I blame her for this!”

Coulson didn’t react to the position he found them in, at least not outwardly. “Mister Stark.”

“Hi, Phil,” Stephen said casually, resting his head against Tony’s back, his arms on either side of Tony’s head. “Do you have something worth interrupting us?”

“Unfortunately.” He walked into the penthouse, leaning down to hand Tony a file. “We need you to look this over, tonight.”

“I don’t like being handed things,” Tony said, ignoring the file.

Stephen took it. “He has a peeve. It’s pretty selective.” He rolled away from Tony to rest on his side, opening the file.

Coulson reached out a hand to stop him. “You’re not supposed to—”

“Yeah, I don’t care.” He handed the file to Tony when he held out his hand for it, ignoring the look on Coulson’s face.

“Thanks, babe,” Tony said before tossing the file to the floor. “Official consulting hours are between eight and five every other Thursday.”

“This isn’t a consultation,” Coulson said with a knowing look.

“Is this about The Avengers?” Stephen asked before backtracking. “Which I obviously know nothing about. Also, wasn’t it scrapped?”

“It was,” Tony said. “And I didn’t qualify.”

“Didn’t know that either.”

“Because, apparently I’m volatile, self-obsessed, and I don’t play well with others.”

“ _That_ I knew.”

“Who’s side are you on?” Tony asked.

“This isn't about personality profiles anymore,” Coulson said.

“Woah, I forgot you were here for a second,” Tony said, looking up at him. “Actually, can you give us a minute? Talk this over? Thanks.”

Coulson shook his head, but walked away, far enough to give them some privacy. Tony rolled onto his side to face Stephen. “We were having a moment.”

“We were about to. Now we’re having an emergency.” He pulled the file over, flipping through it. “If they’re bringing this terrible idea back, then I think we’re going to have to put moments on the back burner.”

Tony peered at the file. Captain America punching Nazis in the forties. A monster tearing Harlem apart brick by brick. A man who claimed to be a god fighting something alien.

The Tesseract.

“I’m gonna go back to my apartment,” Stephen said, moving to stand up. “I need to get some sleep anyway. Busy week at the hospital.”

“Later,” Tony said, grabbing Stephen’s arm and attempting to pull him down. “Stay.”

Stephen shook his head. “You have homework.” Stephen smiled playfully, leaning back down. “But if you finished . . .” He whispered in Tony’s ear, brushing their groans together, before gently kissing his neck. Tony felt his cheeks heat up, vaguely noticing that Coulson was pointedly looking away from them.

Stephen stood back up, looking down at Tony with a cheeky smirk. “Deal?”

* * *

Tony called Stephen first thing the next morning. As soon as Stephen answered, he said, “Finished my homework.”

“Great. I’m at work.”

“ _Fuck!_ ”

* * *

Well, might as well focus on this ‘Loki’ thing since he wasn’t having kinky armor sex. In fact, Fury wouldn’t stop calling him about something going down in Germany . . .

_Guess I don’t have anything else to do._

“Jarvis,” Tony said, coming up on the Stuttgart museum, “I want to make an entrance.”

“AC/DC or Black Sabbath, sir?”

Tony saw SHIELD’s Quinjet, doubtless housing Romanoff/Rushman/whateverthefuck and others. “Surprise me.”

Tony smiled as ‘Shoot to Kill’ poured out of the Quinjet’s speakers. _Just for fun . . ._ “Natalie, did you miss me?”

He didn’t see it, but he liked to think Romanoff sighed so hard her spirit left her body.

In front of the museum, someone — _Captain America_ — was facing off against a man with . . . giant gold antlers on his head. Well, at least those would make for an easy target.

 _Grandpa,_ Tony thought, shooting Loki backwards and landing dramatically, _I’m about to make this a whole lot easier for you._ He held his arms out, the panels of the suit unfolding to reveal weapons strong enough to reduce this drama nerd to a very lovely crater. “Make your move, Reindeer Games.”

Loki looked between him and the Captain ( _And honestly, who designed that outfit? Both practically and aesthetically, that is a disaster_ ) and slowly raised his hands. His armor faded away, leaving him in green-and-black leather.

 _Wait . . . are all of his clothes illusions? Is he actually naked? This raises too many questions._ Ignoring that train of thought, Tony said, “Good move.”

Mister America nodded to Tony in acknowledgment. “Mister Stark.”

Tony returned the nod, wondering at being so close to the man Howard never shut up about. “Captain.” _Well, this is shaping up to be an interesting day._

* * *

They took Loki to the Quinjet. Captain America (he really needed to start thinking of this guy as Steve, there was no way he was that great) tied and cuffed him to a seat while Tony kept his weapons trained on him. He was surprisingly compliant.

“I don’t like it,” Steve said, standing with Tony as they watched Loki uneasily.

“What? Rock of Ages giving up so easily?” Loki could tell they were watching him — they weren’t exactly subtle — but he didn’t seem to care, paying more attention to the lighting outside.

“I don't remember it being ever that easy,” Steve said. “And it’s not like he’s weak. The guy packs a wallop.”

“Still, you are pretty spry, for an older fellow,” Tony said, giving him a quick once-over. “What's your thing? Pilates? Stephen’s been trying to get me to do yoga with him. Not really my thing, but it does keep him bendy.”

“Your boyfriend?” Steve asked. Tony couldn’t quite tell if he was frowning or not.

“Right. You might have missed a couple things, you know, doing time as a Capsicle.”

“You know,” Steve said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “homosexuality was invented _before_ the forties. Shocking, I know.”

“Bisexual, actual. Not sure about the date on that one.”

Steve blinked at him, eyes narrowing slightly. Tony could practically hear him thinking, _Don’t like the ego on this one._ “Fury didn’t tell me he was calling you in.”

“I bet there are a lot of things Fury doesn't tell you.”

Thunder rumbled outside, a nearby shot of lightning shaking the jet. Loki looked out the windows, his face tightening.

“What?” Steve asked, watching him. “Scared of a little lightning?”

“I'm not overly fond of what follows.”

Tony and Steve looked at each other, wondering what Loki meant by that. _Does he get it?_ Tony thought. _No, he doesn’t get it. Of course he doesn’t if I don’t, I’m Tony Stark—_ the jet shook, blinding light flashing outside and throwing Steve and Tony to the walls. In the same moment, the ramp opened and a man with long, light-colored hair came in and grabbed Loki by the throat before flying outside again.

Tony and Steve stared at the ramp, dumbstruck, before Tony put his helmet back on. “Now there's that guy,” Tony said in exasperation, thinking wistfully about his now-ruined plans to see get Stephen’s promise fulfilled before the day was up.

“Another Asgardian?” Natasha asked, looking back from her pilot’s seat.

Steve pulled his cowl up ( _A_ **_cowl_** _, seriously? What was wrong with a normal helmet?_ ), saying, “Think the guy's a friendly?”

“Doesn't matter,” Tony said, walking down the ramp. “If he frees Loki or kills him, the Tesseract's lost.”

He got ready to jump out before Captain Killjoy said, “Stark, we need a plan of attack!”

“Uh, I have a plan. _Attack._ ” Not his best line, but he followed it up with jumping out of the jet, so that was good.

“Now, where did they go . . .” It was nighttime already in Europe, and this high up, it would be impossible for most people to see anything. Of course, most people didn’t have access to a supersuit with heat-seeking and facial recognition capabilities.

 _There they are._ Loki and Taylor Swift were standing on a ledge, arguing, neither seeming worried that someone might find them. So it was kind of funny when Tony tackled Blondie, knocking him off the mountain.

 _Oh, I probably shouldn’t have left Loki alone. Oh well, he’s fine for now._ They crashed into the forest below. Tony easily came to stand across from the guy, watching as he rolled to his feet. _Wait a minute, I recognize this asshole. Yeah, he was in the SHIELD videos I legally acquired from them, and no one can prove otherwise. I should tell Stephen I met a god. He’s gonna be so jealous._

Thor did not seem as excited to meet him. “Do not touch me again!”

Tony’s helmet opened up. “Then don't take my stuff.”

“You have _no idea_ what you're dealing with!”

Tony looked at his (frankly ridiculous) outfit. “Shakespeare in the park?” He put on a fake British accent. “Doth mother know you weareth her drapes?”

“This is beyond you, metal man,” Thor said, refusing to acknowledge his hilarious joke. “Loki will face Asgardian justice!”

Tony shrugged. “He gives up the Cube, he's all yours. Until then, stay out of my way . . .” the helmet covered his face again as he turned to walk away, “. . . tourist.”

The next moment he was being knocked into a tree by a surprisingly powerful hammer, which, you know, _rude_. Tony looked at Thor, eyes narrowing. “ _Okay._ ”

The hammer flew back to Thor’s hand. He started to swing it as Tony dragged himself up, at least until Tony blasted him back on his ass, flying up a second later and kicking him back into a tree.

The next time Thor got a hold of his hammer, struck Tony with lightning, which went . . . surprisingly well.

Jarvis’s warbled voice told him, “Power at four-hundred percent capacity.”

Tony looked up. “Well, how ‘bout that?” He fired Thor with the repulsors and the chest RT, knocking Thor back until he rolled to his knees. They flew towards each other, and Tony caught Thor by the chest, punching him as they soared over the forest and skated along the side of the mountain, finally crashing to the ground, wrecking a ton of trees.

They fought tooth and nail, Tony shooting the so-called god with his repulsors while Thor tried to throw him around or wind up his hammer, even going so far as to crush part of Tony’s gauntlets and _headbutting him_ (granted, Tony did it first, but still).

They stood in front of each other after rolling along the ground, Tony holding his hands palm-out and Thor about to strike him with the hammer, when something large and round bounced off hit Tony’s helmet and ricocheted off of Thor. They stopped, turning to see who’d interrupted them, and, _oh geez_.

Captain America was standing on top of one of the trees they’d knocked down, his shield back in hand, looking at them with the face of a really self-righteous leader. “That’s enough!” He leapt down from the tree, which, okay, was mildly impressive, and looked at Thor. “Now, I don't know what you plan on doing here—”

“I've come here to put an end to Loki's schemes!” Thor said in his accent that didn’t really fit the whole space thing, but whatever.

“Then prove it!” Steve said. “Put the hammer down.”

“Um, yeah, no!” Tony said. “Bad call! He loves his hammer—”

Thor struck Tony across the chest, throwing him back to the ground, before shouting, “ _You want me to put the hammer down?_ ” Before Tony could even get up properly, Thor leapt into the air, raising his hammer and bringing it down on Steve, who rose his shield defensively.

The moment the hammer touched the vibranium shield, an implosion of light shot out, creating a shockwave that reverberated throughout the forest around them and sending Thor and Steve falling back to the ground.

Tony gradually stood up, looking around at the destruction of the trees as the sound echoed through his ears. Steve was beside him, watching Thor as they both rose from the ground.

The three men looked at each other.

Steve subtly formed a defensive line with Tony. “Are we done here?”

* * *

They returned to the jet with Loki in tow, eventually making it to the Helicarrier. Tony put the armor away went for a quick shower before joining the others in the briefing room.

Tony was talking to Coulson when he heard someone say, “Iridium, what did they need the Iridium for?”

“It's a stabilizing agent,” Tony said, walking in. The others turned to face him as he finished speaking to Coulson. “I’m just saying, pick a weekend, I'll fly you there. Keep the love alive.” Coulson nodded and pointed to the table awkwardly, breaking away from Tony, who returned his attention to the briefing. “Means the portal won't collapse on itself like it did at SHIELD.”

Thor was standing to the side of the table, watching Tony with narrowed eyes. 

“No hard feelings, Point Break,” Tony said, patting his arm with the back of his hand. “You've got a mean swing.” He breezed past him, continuing, “ _Also_ , it means the portal can open as wide, and stay open as long, as Loki wants.” He stood in the middle of Fury’s special screen area, looking around and giving orders to the crew. “Uh, raise the mid-mast, ship the topsails.” He shot a hand out to one of the crew members sitting in front of a computer. “That man is playing Galaga! Thought we wouldn't notice, but we did.” He frowned, covering his eye and looking around at the screens, “How does Fury even do this?”

Maria Hill, already nearing the end of her patience with him (close to breaking her record, in fact), said, “He turns.”

“Sounds exhausting.” Tony scrolled through the screens. “The rest of the raw materials, Agent Barton can get his hands on pretty easily. Only major component he still needs is a power source. A high energy density, something to kick start the cube.” He slipped something out of his pockets, subtly enough that no one noticed, and attached it to the desk, whirling around to face the table where Steve, Natasha, Banner, Hill, and Thor all were.

Hill eyed him. “When did you become an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics?”

“Last night.” _Sadly._ “The packet, Selvig's notes, the Extraction Theory papers. Am I the only one who did the reading?”

Steve ignored him, asking, “Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?”

Bruce Banner, who so far had been quietly thinking and messing with his glasses, said, “He'd have to heat the cube to a hundred and twenty million Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier.”

“ _Unless_ ,” Tony said, walking back up to the table, “Selvig has figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunneling effect.”

Bruce shrugged. “Well, if he could do that he could achieve Heavy Ion Fusion at any reactor on the planet.”

“ _Finally_ ,” Tony said, approaching the clearly genius doctor, “someone who speaks English.”

“Is that what just happened?” Steve asked.

Tony didn’t respond, shaking Bruce’s hand. “It's good to meet you, Doctor Banner. Your work on anti-electron collisions is unparalleled, and I'm a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster.”

Stephen probably would have smacked him if he’d been there, but Bruce just looked away awkwardly and said, “Thanks.”

Naturally, Fury chose that moment to join them. “ _Doctor Banner_ is only here to track the cube. I was hoping you might join him.”

“Let's start with that stick of his,” Steve suggested. “It may be magical, but it works an awful lot like a HYDRA weapon.”

_Huh. Something halfway-decent in that pretty head._

Fury said, “I don't know about that, but it _is_ powered by the cube. And I'd like to know how Loki used it to turn two of the sharpest men I know into his personal flying monkeys.”

“Monkeys?” Thor asked. “I do not understand.”

“I do!” Steve said, seeming weirdly proud of himself for the knowledge. Tony rolled his eyes. _I take it back._ “I understood that reference.”

Tony shook his head, turning to Bruce. “Shall we play, doctor?”

Bruce gestured to the door. “Let's play some.”

“Careful, if my boyfriend finds out I’m playing with another man, I’m gonna be in a world of trouble.”

* * *

Bruce scanned Loki’s scepter for radiation, saying, “The gamma readings are definitely consistent with Selvig's reports on the Tesseract. But it's gonna take weeks to process.”

Tony looked at the computer he’d brought with him, sifting through the algorithms. “If we bypass their mainframe and direct a reroute to the Homer cluster, we can clock this around six hundred teraflops.”

“All I packed was a toothbrush.”

Tony chuckled, joining Bruce at his table. “You know, you should come by Stark Tower sometime. Top floors are all R&D except for the penthouse. You'd love it, it's candy land.”

“Thanks, but the last time I was in New York, I kind of broke . . . Harlem.”

“Well, I promise a stress-free environment. No tension. No surprises.” Tony walked around Bruce’s back, quickly zapping him with a miniature electrical prod.

“Ow!” Bruce yelled, looking at him.

Tony leaned into him. “Nothing?”

“Hey!” Steve Rogers shouted, and honestly, what was he even doing here. “Are you nuts?”

“Jury’s out.” To Bruce, he said, “You really have got a lid on it, haven't you? What's your secret? Mellow jazz? Bongo drums? Huge bag of weed?”

“Is everything a joke to you?” Steve demanded.

“Funny things are.”

“Threatening the safety of everyone on this ship isn't funny. No offense, doctor.”

Bruce shook his head. “No, it's alright. Trust me, I wouldn't have come aboard if I couldn't handle pointy things.”

“You’re tiptoeing, big guy,” Tony said, waving the prod around. “You need to _strut_.”

“And _you_ need to focus on the problem, Mister Stark,” Steve said, because apparently he didn’t know how to have fun.

“You think I'm not?” He looked at Steve questioningly. “Why did Fury call us and why now? Why not before? What isn't he telling us?” Tony shrugged. “I can't do the equation unless I have all the variables.”

Steve stilled. “You think Fury's hiding something?”

“You think he’s _not_? He's a spy, he's _the_ spy. His secrets have secrets.” He pointed to Bruce, who was busying himself with the radiation readings. “It's bugging him too, isn't it?”

“Uh . . .” Bruce started to say something and stopped. “I just wanna finish my work here and . . .”

Steve stared at him. “Doctor?”

There was a brief pause before Bruce said, “‘A warm light for all mankind’? Loki's jab at Fury about the cube.”

Steve nodded slightly. “I heard it.”

“Yeah, well I think it was meant for you.” He pointed to Tony. “Even if Barton didn’t tell him, your tower is all over the news.”

“Stark Tower?” Steve asked. “That big, ugly—” he caught the look Tony was giving him, “—building in New York?”

Bruce nodded. “It's powered by Stark Reactors, self-sustaining energy source. That building will run itself for what, a year?”

“It’s just a prototype,” Tony said. “I'm kind of the only name in clean energy right now.”

“Exactly. So why didn’t SHIELD bring you in on the Tesseract project in the first place? What are they even doing in the energy business?”

Tony shrugged casually. “Guess I’ll find out when my decryption program finishes breaking into all of SHIELD's secure files.”

Tony was surprised Steve didn’t jump out of his skin when he heard that. “I’m sorry, did you say—”

“Jarvis has been running it since I hit the bridge,” Tony said, grabbing the food pouch he’d squirreled away earlier. “In a few hours, we'll know every dirty secret SHIELD has ever tried to hide.” He held out the bag to Steve. “Blueberry?”

Steve frowned at the bag before deciding to ignore it. “And you're confused about why they wouldn’t want you around?”

Tony tilted his head. “An intelligence organization that fears intelligence? Historically, not possible.”

Steve was not amused. “I think Loki's trying to wind us up. This is a man who means to start a war, and if we don't stay focused, he'll succeed. We have orders. We should follow them.”

“Hm. Following . . . not really my style.”

Steve smiled sarcastically. “And you’re all about style, right?”

That stung more than he would have thought. “Of the people in this room, which one is, a) wearing a spangly outfit, and b) not of use?”

“Steve,” Bruce cut in, “tell me none of this smells a little funky to you?”

Steve looked between them before saying, “Just find the cube.” He walked out without looking back. Tony amused himself by looking at the stupid cowl hanging around his neck.

As soon as he was gone, Tony said, “ _That’s_ the guy my dad never shut up about? Wondering if they shouldn't have kept him on ice.”

“He’s not wrong about Loki, though,” Bruce pointed out. “He does have the jump on us.”

Tony scoffed. “What he _has_ is an ACME dynamite kit. It's gonna blow up in his face, and I'm gonna be there when it does.”

“And I’ll read all about it.”

“Or you’ll suit up with the rest of us,” Tony said, standing across the table from Bruce.

Bruce smiled, but he didn’t seem happy so much as bitterly amused. “Not exactly. I don’t have a suit of armor. I’m exposed, like a _nerve_. It’s a nightmare.”

Tony watched Bruce, his eyes softening somewhat. “You know, I've got a cluster of shrapnel, trying every second to crawl its way into my heart. Can’t get rid of it. Surgery’s too dangerous. So this—” He pointed to the arc reactor, glowing lightly beneath his band tee, “—stops it. This little . . . circle of light. It's a part of me now. It's . . . a terrible privilege.”

“But you can control it,” Bruce said, though his voice was lighter, if only slightly.

“Because I learned _how_.”

Bruce thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. “It’s different.” He tried to pay attention to his computer screen, but Tony moved the information to the side so that they were looking at each other.

“I read all about your accident. That much exposure to gamma radiation should have _killed you_.

“So you're saying that the Hulk . . . saved my life?” Bruce thought about it. “That's nice. It's a nice sentiment. Saved it for what?”

Tony smiled lightly. “I guess we’ll find out.” He returned to his screens. “I meant what I said earlier. If you ever need a place to stay, you could come to the tower.”

“Is your boyfriend gonna be okay with that?”

Tony paused. “Maybe. Probably. I’ll talk to him about it. We might just not tell him.”

* * *

By the time it was morning, they were able to sit back and let the computers do the work for them while they handled other things. Like, say, looking through SHIELD’s super-secret-files — wait, Fury’s here. Oh well.

Fury looked between them, surprised to see that they were sitting back, Tony not even bothering to acknowledge him. “Stark, what are you doing?”

“Uh . . . kind of been wondering the same thing about you,” Tony said, nonchalantly looking through the documents.

“You are supposed to be locating the Tesseract.”

“We are,” Bruce said, probably with his fingers crossed behind his back. “The model's locked and we're sweeping for the signature now. When we get a hit, we'll have the location within half a mile.”

“You’ll get your fancy Rubix cube back, don’t cry about it,” Tony said. “What is Phase Two?”

Steve Rogers appeared, apparently out of nowhere, and dropped a gun on the table behind Fury, startling the others. He looked at the gun with open anger. “Phase Two is SHIELD using the cube to make weapons.” He looked to Tony. “Sorry, the computer was moving a little slow.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony said, peering at his screen.

Fury tried to explain. “Rogers, we gathered everything related to the Tesseract, alright, that does not mean—”

“Um, I’m sorry, Nick.” Tony moved the screen towards Fury, showing off complex weapon plans, all of them based on the cube. “What were you lying?”

Steve looked at Fury with barely disguised disgust. “I was wrong, director. The world hasn't changed a bit.”

Before Fury could try to talk his way out of it, Thor and Natasha walked into the lab. Natasha’s eyes immediately went to Bruce.

Bruce stared at her angrily. “Did you know about this?”

Natasha ignored the question, raising a placating hand. “Do you want to think about removing yourself from this environment, Doctor Banner?”

Bruce laughed harshly. “I was in _Calcutta_ , I was pretty removed.”

Natasha took a cautious step towards him. Her voice was unwaveringly calm, so far from her usual carefully constructed tone that Tony could tell something was up. “Loki’s manipulating you.”

“Oh, and you’ve been doing what exactly?”

“You didn’t come here because I bat my eyes at you.”

“And I'm not leaving because suddenly you’re feeling twitchy,” Bruce snapped. “ _I'd_ like to know why SHIELD is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction.”

“Because of _him_ ,” Fury said, pointing to Thor.

Thor, seeming genuinely taken aback, blinked and raised a hand to his chest. “Me?”

Fury, moving through the center of the room, raised his head, having gained control of the conversation. “Last year, Earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge match that leveled a small town. Not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, _hilariously_ , outgunned.”

“My people want nothing but peace with your planet,” Thor said, offended.

“But you aren’t the only people out there, are you? And you’re not the only threat. The world's filling up with people who can't be matched, they can't be controlled.”

Steve arched a brow. “Like you controlled the cube?”

“Your work with the Tesseract is what drew Loki to it, _and_ his allies,” Thor said, because they were playing the blame game apparently. “It’s a signal to all the realms that the Earth is ready for a higher form of war!”

“You forced our hand!” Fury said. “We had to come up with something.”

“Nuclear deterrent,” Tony said, shaking his head. “‘Cause that always calms everyone right down.”

“Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark?”

“Hold on!” Tony said at the same time Steve started speaking, “I’m sure if he still made—”

“How is this—”

“—weapons, Stark would be neck-deep—”

“—about me?”

Steve looked at him. “Oh, I’m sorry, isn’t everything?”

By that point, everyone was talking over each other, starting with Thor and Fury, then continuing with Bruce and Natasha, who seemed to think they were all very naive and stupid. “SHIELD monitors potential threats, even us—”

“You’re on that list?” Tony asked. “Are you above or below angry bees?”

Steve was done with him. “I swear to God, Stark, one more crack—”

“Threat! Verbal threat! I feel threatened!”

Thor was saying something stupid about chaos, and Bruce said something less stupid in response. “It's his M.O., isn't it? I mean, what are we, a team? No, no, no. We're a chemical mixture that makes _chaos_. We're . . . we're a _time-bomb!_ ”

Fury tried to calm him down. “You need to step away.”

Tony shrugged, putting an overly-casual hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Why shouldn't the guy let off a little steam?”

Steve pushed his hand off, facing Tony angrily. “You know damn well why! Back off!”

Tony laughed. “Oh, I'm starting to want you to make me.”

“Right, ‘cause I’m really scared of you. Big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, and what are you?”

Tony tilted his head like he was thinking about it. “Uh, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist?”

Steve looked like he might laugh at him. “I know guys with none of that worth ten of you. Yeah, I've seen the footage. The only thing you really fight for is yourself. You're not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you.”

“I think I would just cut the wire.”

Steve smiled humorlessly. “Always a way out, right?” Steve leaned closer to him, using his height to his advantage. “You may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be a hero.”

“A hero? Like you? You're a _lab rat_ , Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle!”

The smile fell from Steve’s face, replaced by a look of genuine anger. Tony smiled triumphantly, but there was an edge of acid to it. There was a dull ache in the back of his head.

“Put on the suit,” Steve challenged. “Let's go a few rounds.”

Thor was mocking them. Tony couldn’t hear him. His heart was pounding, thoughts racing through his head so fast he couldn’t comprehend them. He managed to move away from Steve, turning his back on him just as Bruce was speaking.

“. . . You rented my room,” Bruce said self-loathingly, looking like he was an inch away from snapping at Natasha and Fury.

Fury tried to rein him in. “The cell was just in case—”

“In case you needed to kill me, but you _can't!_ ” Bruce shouted, his face red. “I _know!_ I _tried!_ ”

Tony stared at him, his mind slamming to a stop a speeding train hitting a wall. For the first time, he couldn’t think of anything to say.

“I got low,” Bruce told them, looking down, “I didn't see an end, so I put a bullet in my mouth and the other guy spit it out!” He shrugged, but his shoulders were tense. He looked like he might explode if someone touched him. “So I moved on. I focused on helping other people. I was good until you dragged me back into this freak show and put _everyone here at risk!_ ” He set his eyes on Natasha, who shifted uncomfortably. “You wanna know my secret, Agent Romanoff?” Bruce asked coldly, his hand moving. “You wanna know how I stay calm?”

Steve held up a placating hand. “Doctor Banner,” he said quietly, “please put down the scepter.”

Bruce looked down at his hand, his eyes widening slightly when he saw the spear in his hand.

Before anyone could do anything, the computer beeped.

 _The Tesseract._ “Got it,” Tony said, immediately going to the monitor, turning his back to the others.

Slowly, Bruce set down the scepter. “Sorry, kids. You don't get to see my little party trick after all.”

“You’ve located the Tesseract?” Thor asked, clearly intending to go after it himself.

Tony shook his head. “I can get there faster.”

“Look,” Steve said to both of them, all of us—”

“The Tesseract belongs on _Asgard_ ,” Thor said, staring Steve down. “No human is a match for it.”

Tony rolled his eyes at both of them and turned to leave the lab, mentally calculating how long it would take to get to the cube in his suit, when Steve grabbed his arm.

“You're not going alone!” Steve snapped.

Tony smacked his hand away. “You gonna stop me?”

“Put on the suit, and let's find out,” Steve said, his voice cold.

“I'm not afraid to hit an old man.”

“ _Put on the suit._ ”

“Oh my God,” Bruce said quietly, snapping everyone’s attention to him. The next instant, everyone was thrown, to the floor, to the walls, even out the room.

Steve and Tony looked at each other. “Put on the suit.”

“Yep!”

* * *

_Okay_ , Tony thought, zipping through the air in his suit while people fought inside the helicarrier. _Engine three, engine three, engine— ah, there we are._

“Stark,” Steve said over the com, “I’m here!”

“Well then let’s see what we got.” He flew in close to the damaged engine, his viewscreen throwing up information. “I gotta get this superconducting cooling system back online before I can access the rotors and work on dislodging the debris.” From here, he could see Steve in the engine room. “I need you to get to that engine control panel and tell me which relays are in overload position.”

Tony flew into the cooling conductors as Steve climbed up to the control panel and opened it.

“What's it look like in there?”

Steve hesitated before answering, “It seems to run on some form of electricity.”

“. . . Well, you're not wrong.”

* * *

It took a bit of time, but he managed to get the rotors propelling properly, leveling the helicarrier.

Too bad he got them spinning while he was still in the engine.

“Cap, hit the lever!”

“Need a minute here!” Steve shouted before grunting.

The rotors were going faster than he could keep up with, spinning by themselves. “Lever, _now!_ ”

“Kind of busy!”

“And I’m not?!” He couldn’t keep pace. The rotor in front of him moved too far ahead, and his hand slipped from it as he fell back against one of the rotors, about to slip under it. “Fuck—”

Tony fell into the rotors, flung between them like a pinball while the suit was bashed and the metal hit his face, until the rotors slowed enough for him to get out, which, _finally._

He helped Cap out with Loki’s men who were attacking him before falling to the floor. Exhausted, he didn’t fight it when unconsciousness overtook him.

* * *

“These were in Phil Coulson's jacket. Guess he never did get you to sign them.” Fury tossed a set of bloodstained trading cards to Steve, who picked them up, delicately, as though they were made of glass. Tony didn’t look at them.

 _I should have been there_ , Tony thought numbly. _I should have saved him._

When Fury spoke, his voice was without the confidence that seemed so natural to him. “We're dead in the air up here. Our communications, location of the cube, Banner, Thor. We got nothing. Lost my one good eye.” He shrugged limply. “Maybe I had that coming.” He moved with his back to them, looking out the window. “Yes, we were going to build an arsenal with the Tesseract. I never put all my chips on that number though. I was playing something even riskier. There was an idea, and Stark knows this, called The Avengers Initiative. The idea was to bring together a group of remarkable people, to see if they could become something _more_. See if they could work together when we needed them to, to fight the battles that we never could. Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea, in heroes.”

Tony stood up, blood roaring through his hears, and left, unable to listen further. He let his feet carry him through the helicarrier without thinking, just wanting to escape until he could pull himself together.

Of course, Steve wouldn’t let him have that. He found him in the detention center, staring at the empty cell carrier.

Steve’s voice was quiet. “Was he married?”

Tony shook his head. “No. There was a . . . a cellist, I think.”

“I'm sorry. He seemed like a good man.”

“He was an _idiot_ ,” Tony spit out.

“For believing?”

“For taking on Loki alone!” There were a thousand ways Tony could have stopped Loki if he’d gotten there in time.

_If._

Steve was frustratingly calm. “He was doing his job.”

“He should have kept job hunting. He should have waited for someone, for us. He should have . . .”

“Sometimes there isn't a way out, Tony.”

“Or you just don’t think of one in time.”

Steve started to say something, but stopped himself, thinking. “Is this the first time you've lost a soldier?”

“ _We are not soldiers!_ ” Tony shouted at him, turning sharply on his heel. “I don’t march to Fury’s drum!”

“Neither do I! He has the same blood on his hands as Loki does!”

Tony stopped, looking at Steve and seeing, for the first time, something other than the perfect soldier Rogers presented.

“But we can’t think about that right now,” Steve said, wiping his face of emotion. Tony rolled his eyes, turning back to face the wall. “We have to focus on fixing this. Now, Loki needs a power source, if we can put together a list—”

Tony frowned, looking at Phil’s dried blood on the wall. “He made it personal.”

Steve sighed tiredly. “That’s not the point.”

“That’s _precisely_ the point. That’s Loki’s point. He hit us all where we live. Why?”

Steve considered it. “To tear us apart.”

“Yeah, divide and conquer, great, but he knows he has to take us out to win, right? _That's_ what he wants. He wants to beat us and he wants to be seen doing it. He wants an audience.”

Steve nodded. “Like his act at Stuttgart.”

“That’s nothing, that's just a preview, this is _opening night_ ,” Tony said quickly, making large, sweeping movements with his hands to get the point across. “Loki, he’s a _full-tilt_ diva. He wants flowers, he wants parades, he wants a monument built in the skies with his name plastered—” Tony froze. “Son of a bitch.”

* * *

_Okay,_ Tony thought as Loki through him across to the floor of the penthouse, _maybe that wasn’t the smartest thing to say. At least I was right about the tower._ Somehow, that didn’t seem like a victory.

“Jarvis, anytime now!” Tony said before Loki picked him up by the throat (you know, _again_ ).

Loki held Tony close to his face, gritting his teeth in anger. “ _You will all fall before me!_ ”

Tony choked out, “Deploy! _Deploy—_ ”

Apparently tired of his bullshit (fair), Loki threw him out the goddamn window, and _fuck_ that hurt — not as much as what was going to happen when he hit the ground, but still.

“ _JARVIS!_ ” Tony screamed, falling to the ground, which was coming up fast, closer and closer, _oh fuck, of fuck I’m gonna die, Jesus—_

Luckily Jarvis was not completely useless, and the suit was finally deployed, the red-and-gold pod following Tony down the side of the buildings and scanning his bracelets, latching onto him and transforming into the Mark VII. And _just_ in time to keep him from hitting the ground (and some people staring at him who apparently didn’t get the memo about standing directly underneath a man in a heavy metal suit falling over a hundred feet to the ground). Talk about cinematic.

Tony shot back up in the new suit. “And there's one more person you pissed off.” He hovered outside the window, eyes dead set on Loki. “His name was Phil.” Tony fired at him before he could raise his scepter, knocking him across the flow. Which felt very satisfying until he noticed the portal opening, a bright blue beam firing into the sky.

“Right,” Tony said as aliens in silver armor poured out of space, “army.”

* * *

Stephen was discussing a patient’s history with one of the nurses when people started filling the hospital.

He ignored it, at first. If it was an emergency, then the ER doctors would handle it. If it was an _emergency_ , then they’d start calling on the other doctors for help. He was enough of a pain to work with that he wasn’t high on their list.

He realized it was an _EMERGENCY_ when completely healthy and uninjured people started rushing in and every TV seemed to be blaring the news.

Stephen went to the ER, looking for Christine. “What’s going on?” Someone was crying, blubbering their way through their fear. Stephen ignored it. “Christine, what’s happening?”

Before she could answer, everyone stopped, turning to stare out a window. Silver-shelled _things_ moved beyond it, flying through the air with weapons raised.

“Okay,” Stephen began, “who said we were having a quiet day? Because that person _fucking jinxed it._ ”

* * *

Good news: Steve and the others were working on evacuating Manhattan and so far hadn’t been killed.

Bad news: everything else.

This may or may not include the giant leviathan _thing_ chasing him.

Really, he’d had worst days. Couldn’t think of any at the moment, but he was pretty sure.

“Stark,” Steve said over the coms, “we got him.”

“Bruce Bear?” Tony asked hopefully.

“Just like you said.”

Oh yeah, he’d definitely had worse days than this. “Tell him to suit up. I’m bringing the party to you.” He veered to the side, leading the monster alien thing ( _. . . probably gonna stick with leviathan_ ) to them. Tony swooped down to avoid being eaten. Of course, the leviathan followed him, barreling towards the street like it was a sore loser and this was a really shitty contest.

There was a figure standing in the road, small enough that Tony couldn’t make them out at first, and then, WOAH, OKAY, THAT WAS BRUCE, THAT WAS BRUCE TURNING INTO A GIANT GREEN RAGE MONSTER AND IT WAS _AWESOME_ , AND IT WAS EVEN COOLER WHEN HE PUNCHED THE LEVIATHAN IN THE NOSE AND STARTED TO FLIP ON ITS BACK BEFORE TONY SHOT IT WITH A ROCKET.

. . . Okay, the ensuing bits of fried leviathan covering them and the road? Less awesome, but overall, YES.

The Chitauri soldiers screamed at them from above as the Avengers assembled, gathering in a circle with their weapons raised.

And yeah, that was the moment that Loki decided to release more of his arm, but still. Pretty badass.

“Call it, Cap,” Tony said, because yeah, they needed a plan.

Steve shook off his fear easier than the others and starting handing out orders. “Alright. Now, until we can close that portal up there, we're gonna use containment. Barton, I want you on that roof, eyes on everything. Call out patterns and strays. Stark, you got the perimeter. Anything gets more than three blocks out, you turn it back or you turn it to ash.”

Barton looked at him. “Wanna give me a lift?”

Tony grabbed him by the back. “Clench up, Legolas.” They flew into the sky, Tony dropping him off at the building Steve had pointed to before taking off to do his job.

_I deserve a raise._

“What else we got?” Tony asked after they handled some Chitauri that had been tailing him.

“Well,” Barton said over the coms, “Thor's taking on a squadron down on 6th.”

Tony tilted his head. “And he didn't invite me?”

He caught up with Romanoff on the way. Somehow she’d commandeered one of the weird flying chariot things the aliens rode and was cutting her way through them much faster now. Tony joined in the fun, shooting down a few that were on her tail before briefly joining Steve on the ground and taking down some of the ones hanging on the side of the buildings.

Then Thor brought around another leviathan, and honestly, this was getting kind of annoying.

Tony tried cutting through its exoskeleton, but Jarvis was being a killjoy. “Sir, we will lose power before you cut through that shell.”

Tony cursed under his breath, flying ahead of the monster to see if it gave him any terrible ideas. And it did.

“Jarvis, you ever hear the tale of Jonah?”

“Yes, but I wouldn't consider him a role model.”

“Too late.” Tony sped forward until he was able to turn around to face the monster’s gaping mouth, readying his weapons.

The leviathan, apparently not seeing a reason Tony wouldn’t want to do this, opening its maw. He flew through the lightless innards of its body, blowing up everything he could before bursting out the tail as it collapsed. Tony rolled down the street, panting as he grew increasingly tired. Didn’t stop the aliens from swarming him, but he hadn’t expected it to.

“Stark!” Fury’s voice appeared as Tony fended off the attackers. “Are you hearing me? We have a missile headed straight for the city.”

 _Okay, NOW this is the worst day of my life._ “How long?”

“Three minutes, at best. Stay low and wipe out the missile.”

“Jarvis, put everything we got into the thrusters!”

“I just did.”

 _Oh, there’s a good A.I._ Tony burst through the Chitauri surrounding him to take to the sky, searching for the missile — oh, there it was.

“I can close it!” Romanoff said over the coms. “Can anybody copy? I can shut the portal down!”

“Do it!” Steve shouted, sounding winded.

“No, wait!” Tony said.

“Stark, these things are still coming!”

“We got a nuke coming in, and it's gonna blow in less than a minute,” Tony said, chasing after it and just managing to grab it, resting the body on his back and wrenching it off course. He looked at the portal. “And I know just where to put it.”

“Stark,” Steve said as Tony approached the blue beam, “you know that's a one-way trip?”

Tony didn’t respond.

“Sir,” Jarvis said gently, “shall I call Doctor Strange?”

Tony paused. “Might as well.”

* * *

The hospital was in chaos. Dozens of people, some of them injured, some dead, some just scared, filled every floor, taking up whatever space they could until there was barely room to walk, nevermind operate. Stephen bounced from patient to patient, checking for injuries, nerve damage, shock, and doing his best to give reassurance and information where he could.

“It’ll be okay,” he told one patient, a crying young girl with a very minor head wound who’d been separated from her parents. “Iron Man and others are out there right now fighting the monsters, protecting the city.” He didn't trust Natasha, and didn’t actually know any of the others, but Tony . . . “They’ll keep us safe.”

He moved on as soon as he could, his attention immediately drawn to someone who liked like they might be entering shock. As he worked, one of the new interns approached him, their eyes wide with fear. “Doctor Strange,” he asked nervously, “should we try calling some people, to see if they can help us?”

“ _Absolutely not,_ ” Stephen said. “We’re not putting anyone else in danger. We’ll just have to make do with who we have.” Unfortunately, the didn’t have enough. The ORs and ER were completely full and they were stuffing people into whatever rooms they had left, not to mention they were running low on supplies and personnel as everyone quickly became exhausted working through so many people without being able to call anyone in.

“Doctor Strange,” the intern asked nervously, barely noticing the tension in Stephen’s shoulders, “what’ll we do if they attack here?”

“Well, we’ll cross that bridge if we get to it, won’t we?” Stephen snapped. “For now, focus on treating the patients we have. Don’t worry about doing anything fancy, just keep people alive until this is over and we can start transfers—”

“Stephen,” Christine called, running up to him, “you have a call.”

Stephen stared at her. “Seriously? Tell them to fuck off—”

“It’s Tony.”

Stephen froze, mouth opening and closing before he looked at the vibrating phone in her hand. He looked to the intern. “Take care of this patient.” He took the phone from Christine, running to a supply closet for an attempt at privacy.

He answered the call.

“Tony?” Stephen said. The line was dead. “ _Tony?_ ”

* * *

Monsters and darkness filled his vision. The suit froze.

Tony closed his eyes and fell.

* * *

HOLY FUCK WHAT WAS THAT WHAT WAS THAT WHAT THE _FUCK—_

Tony’s eyes shot open. “What the hell? What just happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me?” People were standing around him, staring at him, and it’s not like he didn’t appreciate the attention, but what the fuck just happened?

Steve, covered in dirt and sweat, sat back a bit on his hand, panting. “We won.”

Tony sighed in relief. _Finally._ “Hey, good job, guys. I’m proud of us. You know what? Let's just not come in tomorrow. Let's just take a day. Have you ever tried shawarma? There's a shawarma joint about two blocks from here. I don't know what it is, but I wanna try it.”

“We're not finished yet,” Thor said, looking ominously at Stark Tower.

A beat passed before Tony said, “And then shawarma after.”

* * *

“Actually,” Tony said once they’d apprehended Loki, who wasn’t looking too good himself honestly, “if you guys don’t mind handling this, I kind of want to check on someone. I’ll meet up with you later for shawarma, okay?” Tony started out the door. “Okay, great, bye guys!”

It was kind of difficult getting to the hospital since the roads were either blocked off or covered in alien carcasses, but never let it be said that Tony Stark let the national guard or rotting flesh stand in the way of love.

The hospital was full when he got there, ambulances racing out to transport the relatively stable patients to somewhere where they could get more help. Which he also probably should have expected, but he wasn’t going to let a chaotic hospital stand in the way of love either.

It was possible he had a concussion.

He found Christine in the ER. She didn’t _quite_ scream when she saw him, but he thought she wanted too. And people were staring at him. Probably because he was still wearing what remained of his armor.

He ignored them. “Where’s Stephen?”

“He’s . . . down the hall . . . supply closet . . . we thought you were dead, holy shit—”

“Sorry to disappoint.” Tony made his way past her, brushing off people’s attempts to get his attention. “Stephen? Stephen?” He found a supply closet and opened it. “Baby?”

“Tony?” Stephen said quietly. He was sitting on the floor with his legs drawn up. His head had been buried in his knees until he heard Tony. “Are you . . . _oh God—_ ”

Tony fell to the floor in front of Stephen, hitting his knees. He ignored it. Stephen was crying, barely able to see him at all. Tony wrapped his arms around him, gentle so that the armor wouldn’t hurt. Stephen reached out for him, finding Tony’s shirt under the metal and gripping it. “ _Tony,_ ” Stephen sobbed. “ _Tony._ ”

Tony tucked Stephen’s head under his chin. “I’m here,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was kind of annoying to write because Stephen isn't very involved until the end, and some scenes are pretty much verbatim from the movie, which isn't very fun as a fanfiction, but hopefully I can avoid that in the future. Also a bit shorter than previous chapters, mostly because The Avengers isn't really Tony-centric like Iron Man and Iron Man 2 are, but what can you do.
> 
> Also also, the next chapter's gonna be a bit different in that it will not follow one of the movies. Don't worry, we're gonna have fun with it.


	5. Interlude: Changes

_—2012_ _—_

Stephen stood frozen in the kitchen doorway, wondering how his life had come to this.

He was wearing only a blanket wrapped loosely around his waist, obviously flushed and poorly hiding his erection, as he stared at the heroes sitting in his kitchen.

They stared back.

Before they could ask, Stephen said, “I was just coming to get something.”

“Oh,” Steve said, his own cheek turning pink. Steve was sandwiched between Thor and Natasha at the table as they say across from Bruce and Clint. The only one not there was Tony, seeing as he was a bit . . . tied up at the moment. “Okay.” They sat in awkward silence for a moment before Steve asked, “Are you going to . . .”

“Yes,” Stephen said sharply, remembering himself. “Of course.” He crossed the kitchen, ignoring their eyes at his back, and pulled a can of whipped cream out of the fridge before hurrying back to the bedroom, cheeks burning. He sighed in belief when he shut the door behind him.

Tony looked up at him from the bed. “What took you so long?”

* * *

Another time, Stephen and Tony were lying in bed and watching a movie. Tony had his head in Stephen's lap and a blanket pulled up over him while Stephen's fingers stroked his hair. Stephen looked down at him with gentle pale eyes.

“You’re cute when you’re quiet,” Stephen said.

Tony turned in his lap, looking up at Stephen. “Your tone is telling me that was a compliment. Was it?”

Stephen smiled and leaned down, trailing kisses down Tony’s face before reaching his lips. Tony smiled lazily as Stephen withdrew. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Tony nuzzled Stephen’s stomach. “Do you want me to . . .” Tony made a suggestive hand gesture.

“No,” Stephen said. “I just want to lie here with you until—”

Downstairs, something exploded. Loudly.

“—what the fuck was that?” Stephen demanded, staring wide-eyed at the door.

“Don't know, don't care, go back to petting me.” But Stephen was already standing up, dumping Tony's head out of his lap before reaching for his dressing robe. “Oh come on, I'd it was an emergency Jarvis would have said something.”

“Unless someone disabled him,” Stephen seethed, tossing a pair of shoes to Tony.

“Stephen, if you knew how much time I spend in the workshop when you're not here, you'd know how unlikely that is.” But that got Tony paranoid, so now they were going downstairs. Great.

As soon as they entered the kitchen, the smell of burnt popcorn hit their noses. The room was filled with smoke. Bruce sat at the table, itself half-black and smoky, looking guilty while Thor tore into a burnt bag of what smelled like kettle corn that had been popped on the sun.

Stephen stared at Thor. “What the hell did you do?!”

“It’s my fault,” Bruce said while Thor looked down at his bag sheepishly, “I shouldn’t have told him about popcorn.”

“And our table?”

“His fault. He summoned lightning for the popcorn.”

Stephen started to say something, his neck heating up from his anger, but he forced himself to lower his hand. “You know what? I’m going to bed. I have to get up early for work tomorrow.”

Tony, standing between Stephen and Bruce and frowning at the destruction of their table, said, “No you don’t—”

“I do now,” Stephen snapped, turning his back on them. “If the tower bursts into flames, leave me.”

Tony didn’t follow him. _Good,_ Stephen thought spitefully, falling into bed. Tony was getting on his nerves more and more recently, starting with inviting the newly-formed Avengers to stay in the tower (complete), to giving them free rein to come into their penthouse whenever they wanted, to not discussing either of those things with Stephen. Who, you know. _Lived with him and was supposed to have an equal say in those sort of things._ Stephen huffed, rolling over in bed when something occurred to him.

“Jarvis,” Stephen said, sitting up in the dark bedroom, “how much time does Tony spend in the workshop when I'm gone?”

“Would you like to hear the answer he told me to give you, sir?”

“ _No._ ”

“Then I’m afraid I can’t answer you.”

Stephen sighed. “Fantastic.”

* * *

Stephen relished the days he didn't have to work. His job was important to him. There was nothing he'd rather do in the world. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate his free time. And today's special because he knows that Tony didn’t have anything to do (that Stephen couldn’t distract him from, at least), and they were both so busy, Stephen with the hospital and Tony with S.I. and the Avengers, that it had been ages since they were able to just spend a day together.

He slept in for hours before lounging around in bed for a while before properly getting up. He thought they might go out for breakfast since it seemed incredibly unlikely that Tony had actually eaten anything yet.

Thinking about where they might go and some journal articles he was planning to read later, Stephen went down to the workshop in a surprisingly good mood.

Right until he walked into the workshop.

Tony looked up as soon as the door opened, smiling when he saw Stephen. “Morning, honeybunch.”

Stephen ignored him. His focus was on Bruce Banner.

Really, Banner wasn’t the person Stephen thought he would have a problem with. Granted, he could turn into a hulking green monster when he was angry, but Stephen was confident in Tony’s ability to protect him if it came to it. When he did think about it, his mind had gone to Thor or Steve Rogers, both of whom were tall and muscular and handsome, or maybe Natasha, who'd tried to seduce Tony before, if only for information (but she also stabbed Tony in the neck with a needle, so that was kind of iffy).

He hadn't realized Banner would spend hours on end with his boyfriend, in his workshop, talking to him about his ideas and feelings and everything it seemed that they used to talk about.

Stephen was tempted to try and kick him out, but he couldn’t do that. Bruce saved Tony during the Battle of New York. That would have been enough to keep him on Stephen’s good side forever if it weren’t for the sinking feeling that even if he tried to force the issue, Tony would take Bruce’s side over his.

Forcing his eyes to Tony, Stephen realized he didn’t feel like being around him anymore. “I think I'm going to go out for a bit. Take a walk, maybe do some yoga.” He looked at Tony, stomach swirling with uncertainty, before reaching out and pulling him in for a kiss.

The kiss was . . . slow. Careful. He took his time opening Tony's mouth and exploring it with his tongue, threading his fingers through soft brown hair, eyes closed while he ignored Banner's awkward shuffling.

Stephen broke the kiss first, pressing two more soft ones against Tony's lips and the tip of his nose before leaning back with a smile. “I'll see you later, alright?”

Tony's dazed eyes were half-lidded from the kiss, his hand still hanging onto Stephen's sleeve. It was almost enough to make him feel better. “Yeah. Mamma Mia night?”

Stephen smiled. “Wouldn’t miss it.” He grabbed Tony’s ass for a quick squeeze before leaving, the feeling of dread not quite dispelled from his mind.

* * *

Whenever Stephen and Tony had a full day where they didn't have to do anything, they liked to have a Mamma Mia night. They watched _Mamma Mia_ , listened to Abba, and had sex in the private hot tub. The very height of romance.

Of course, the fact that Tony _clearly realized_ why the day was important yet saw no problem spending it all with Bruce fucking _Banner_ (who he was _already_ spending so much time with) made Stephen want to grind his teeth, something he hadn't done compulsively since he was a child. But he was still looking forward to it and considering how he might broach the topic of the Avengers (later, in bed, when Tony was more open to suggestion) when he arrived at their movie room.

Where the Avengers were.

“Tony,” Stephen said in a clipped tone. “Want to explain something to me?”

Tony was laying across a row of seats, lazily eating popcorn while Jarvis set the movie up. He looked up at Stephen. “Hey, you’re here.” He scooted up on the chairs so that he was pressing up against the backs and patted the seat. “C’mon. You can be the little spoon.”

“ _Tony._ ”

“What?”

Stephen looked at the Avengers, who were scattered around the room watching them with mild interest, then back at Tony.

“Oh. Yeah, I thought they could join us for the movie. Not the rest of the night, _unless—_ ”

“Actually,” Stephen cut him off, “I have a headache. A movie with a lot of people singing Abba probably isn’t the best thing for it.”

“Oh,” Tony said, quickly wiping away his frown. “Do you want to watch something else?”

“No, I think I’m just going to bed.”

Tony smiled, sitting up.

“No,” Stephen snapped before lightening his tone. “Stay and watch the movie. I kind of just want to go to sleep.”

Tony arched a brow. “You sure?”

“Very.” Stephen’s ears rang as he left.

* * *

Stephen barely saw Tony for weeks after that. He was sure they talked more when Tony lived in California. If someone asked if he was avoiding his boyfriend, Stephen would have said no, and he might even believe it if he’d been working long enough.

Once they went four days without seeing each other. That night, Stephen woke up to Tony beside him in bed when he hadn’t come out of the workshop once in the four times Stephen had called him earlier.

Stephen’s annoyance froze when he realized Tony was whimpering in his sleep, shaking so hard he thought he might break.

Stephen gently grabbed his shoulder, one hand sweeping down his back. “Tony?” He said, shaking him. “Tony, baby, wake up.” Tony was sweating, his face scrunched in fear. “Tony, please _wake up_.”

It took a minute, but Tony woke up, breathing heavily as he stared at Stephen.

“Sweetheart, what happened?” Stephen asked softly.

Tony was holding his hand, gripping it hard enough to hurt. Stephen ignored it, more focused on the panicked look in his eyes.

“I was falling,” Tony said, looking past him. “I was falling and . . . I’m sorry, Stephen. Whatever I did, I’m _sorry_.”

Stephen shushed him, shifting until he and Tony were pressed together. “It’s okay. I’m here.” He wrapped his arms around Tony’s shoulders, nuzzling Tony’s neck. “Are you alright? What do you need?”

Tony held him tighter. “You. Just you.”

* * *

Things were better for a while after that. Stephen was careful to pay more attention to Tony, making sure he ate enough and drank something other than coffee (a feat in and of itself) and at least _tried_ to get enough sleep.

That was . . . less successful.

Stephen came home from a long but successful day in a good mood. Tony had texted him while he was driving home, inviting him to come and look at the plans for the next member of the Iron Legion, a project Stephen was in favor in as he hoped that the autonomous suits would free Tony up for duty.

. . .

That wasn’t going to happen, but he could dream.

And if he was annoyed when he saw Bruce Banner in there _AGAIN_ . . . it probably didn’t show on his face.

Probably.

Yeah, he put himself in between them and kissed Tony for too long for it to really be a hello kiss, but still.

Stephen kept one hand on Tony’s lower back as Tony explained what he wanted to do with the newest suit, ignoring Bruce when he spoke and pressing small kisses to Tony’s neck when the urge struck him.

Tony’s fingers moved over Stephen’s hand unthinkingly. “I’m gonna get something from upstairs. Be right back.” He left Stephen alone with Bruce.

_Yay._

Bruce and Stephen stood across from each other, Bruce looking at him then away awkwardly while Stephen studiously ignored him.

Bruce, apparently unable to stand the tension, said, “It's nice of you guys to let us stay here.”

Stephen felt his eye twitch. “Tony's very generous like that.” Stephen figured that out when Tony paid off his student loans after they'd been dating for a week.

“Yeah . . .” He trailed off awkwardly while Stephen's eyes bore a hole into his head. “Uh . . . you want to . . . say something?”

“No.”

“Oh. Okay.”

And Stephen would have been happy to leave it at that, but apparently Banner wouldn't be. “It just seems like you maybe have a problem with me? And the other guys. But mostly me. At first, I thought it was because of the . . . 'other guy', but now I think you just don't like me?”

“Then maybe you should keep your eyes to yourself and not on other people’s boyfriends,” Stephen snapped, the words coming out even angrier than he'd meant them.

Bruce shut and opened his mouth, fumbling over his words. “I'm not—”

“I’m back,” Tony said as he opened the door, his hands empty. “Couldn’t find it.”

“What were you looking for?”

“Forgot,” Tony said, looking between Stephen and Bruce. “Ready to get back to—”

“Actually,” Bruce said, stepping back (away from Tony, Stephen noted happily), “I think I’m done for today.”

“Really?” Tony asked before glancing at Stephen, who looked away innocently.

“Yeah, I’m kind of . . . done. Bye, Tony. Stephen.”

Stephen half-waved at him before deciding he didn’t care and letting his hand fall.

Tony turned to Stephen after Banner left. “What do you have against Bruce?”

Stephen looked away from him. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Really?” Tony asked, staring at him. “You don’t know that you give him the cold shoulder whenever you get the chance or that you stare at him like you’re trying to melt his brain with your . . . brain. Mind, your mind, that’s what I should have said.”

“You’re imagining things.” Stephen took his hands, lacing their fings together and pressing Tony against the table, sliding his hands down to Tony’s waist. “There are so many better things we could be doing right now.” He started to turn Tony around so he could turn him over the table, but Tony grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“You can’t distract me with sex.”

“Why not? It’s always worked before.” He tried to move Tony again, but to no avail.

“No,” Tony said. “You’ve been acting weird for weeks now.”

“ _I’m_ weird?” Stephen demanded. “You’ve been staying up for days at a time down here with your _friend_. You’re clearly not okay, but God-fucking-forbid you try to talk to _me_ about it.”

“Stephen—”

But Stephen was already on a roll, pushing away from Tony and walking around while he ranted. “Do you think I don’t see what’s happening to you? Don’t notice the stress in your eyes, the way you never sleep? Don’t realize you put a tracker in my phone? What, do you think I just _forget_ about all the times you wake up from nightmares on the rare occasion that you _do_ sleep?”

“Stephie—”

“ _Don’t!_ You _know_ I hate that nickname! And you know what else I hate?”

“No—”

“I hate having them all here! And no, I’m _not_ going to call them the Avengers, that’s stupid. I should be able to come home without having to worry about a bunch of people I don’t like _destroying our house!_ ”

“That’s not unreasonable—”

“But you know what? I could put up with that, _if you had even thought to ask me before inviting a super soldier, spies, a fucking demigod, and a giant monster to live in our house!_ ”

“Technically, it's not a house— nevermind.”

Stephen ran his hands through his hair, clearly frustrated. “Jesus Christ, Tony, this is the first real conversation we’ve had in days and you’re not even paying attention to me.”

“I always pay attention to you!”

“No, you don’t! How can you when we never even see each other! Between Iron Man and the hospital and everything else, it feels like I never see you for more than a few minutes. Meanwhile, Bruce and the others are here, living in what's supposed to be _our_ home, spending hours with you every day, talking about your _machines_ and your _armor_ and . . . I don’t want to give up my work for you, for anything. I don’t want to stay home every day and just _exist_ for you. But want to be _with_ you, I want to talk to you and be heard and I want us to be good together.”

“I’ve never been better than when I was with you,” Tony said softly. “Come here.” He takes Stephen’s hand lightly. Stephen went to Tony easily, but looked past him to the wall. “I’m sorry. Everything just snowballed, and I didn’t think to ask you. But I should have. And I should have asked you what was wrong. But I do love you, and I want you to be happy. I want _us_ to be happy.” Tony paused. “Do you want them to leave? I can find a different place for them, set up headquarters somewhere else.”

Slowly, Stephen relaxed, allowing himself to fit his head into the crook of Tony’s neck, breathing him in. “You don’t _have_ to do that. I just want us to be like we were. And they could just move a few floors down. And maybe make them stop walking into our home whenever they feel like it.” 

“Done and done.” Tony held him tighter, pressing a kiss to Stephen’s cheek. “We’ll figure this out.”

* * *

Stephen was cautiously hopeful the next time he went down to Tony’s workshop. The number of times he’d almost had an Avengers-induced aneurysms had drastically reduced. And he couldn’t tell if Bruce was actually more respectful of boundaries or if he was imagining it (which was Tony’s theory, but what did he know).

Tony smiled when he saw him. “Guess who had a great idea.”

“My first thought is Pepper. After that, Rhodey. Then me. Then Dum-E. Sadly, U is not on the list.”

U beeped indignantly.

“That’s great. You should be a comedian. Just give up surgery completely.”

“Then neither of us would be respectable.”

“Ha. Moving on, I was thinking of ways to fix the problem of us not spending time together. And I think I got it.” He waved Stephen over to a table and pulled up a hologram.

Stephen looked at the screen, trying to puzzle out what Tony was thinking. “These are prosthetics.”

Tony nodded. “They are. Very basic plans for them at least. Give me a month, and they'll be more advanced than anything else on the market, and as cheap as can be.”

Stephen stared at him. An idea was forming in his mind, but he needed confirmation. “Okay?”

“But medicine and anatomy aren't among my many talents. Comparatively.”

Stephen snorted. “‘Comparatively’.”

“One more crack, and you’re not getting any dick for a week.”

“You’d give in by a day.”

“Don’t point out the flaws in my logic. That’s Jarvis’s job.”

“And Pepper’s. And Rhodey’s. And Fury’s. And mine.”

“MOVING ON, I would need someone who had serious knowledge of the body and nervous system to help me make and design prosthetics this advanced. Which would involve a lot of working together. And would also be the kind of thing that S.I.'s lawyers are currently talking your hospital into giving you time to do. Coincidentally.”

Stephen’s eyes shown. “Coincidentally.”

Tony leaned against the table, smiling. “Yep.”

“That’s a pretty nice coincidence.”

“Glad you like it. Isn’t it nice when things work out like that?”

Stephen moved forward, grabbing Tony and lifting him up, setting him down on the table. He leaned into Tony, gently brushing a hand through his soft hair and gazing at him. “It’s perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was kind of a long wait for a pretty short chapter, but I have been busy and tired and small. Hopefully we'll do better in the future, but like, don't make any bets.
> 
> Next part is Iron Man 3!


	6. Iron Man 3

_— 2012 —_

_Stephen curled closer to Tony in his sleep, a hand unconsciously reaching out to the fading scars on his chest. Tony smiled at him, resting one hand on his cheek and the other on the small of his back. Stephen grumbled and burrowed closer, shaking off Tony’s hand and breathing into the hollow of his throat._

_“Can’t believe I almost lost you.”_

* * *

“Ow,” Tony said before poking himself in the arm again as Jarvis counted.

“Forty-six.”

“Ow.”

“Forty-seven. _Sir_ , may I _please_ request just a few hours to calibrate—”

“Nope,” Tony said, injecting the final shot. “Ow!” He shook his arm to drive off the pain, wiping away the blood. “Micro-repeater implanting sequence complete.”

“As you wish, sir. I've also prepared a safety briefing for you to entirely ignore.”

“Which I will. Alright, let's— Dum-E!”

Dum-E was trying and failing to sweep up a pile of trash, looking very fashionable in its new Dunce cap. It looked at Tony.

“How did you get that cap on your head? You earned it.”

Dum-E whirred sadly.

“What are you doing around in the corner?” Tony asked, jumping to his feet and walking past the Christmas tree (sadly, white and _not_ the bright red one he wanted which Stephen refused; he still thought an Iron Man helmet would make a good topper). “You know what you did. Blood on my mat, handle it.”

“Sir, may I remind you that you've been awake for nearly seventy-two hours.”

“You may, and I will ignore you.” He checked that U’s camera was set up before hopping up on the small platform in the middle of the workshop, turning to address the row of suits in their cases along the wall. “Good evening, and welcome to the birthing suite. I'm pleased to announce the imminent arrival of your bouncing, bad-ass, baby brother. Mark 42, autonomous prehensile propulsion suit test. Initialize sequence. Jarvis, drop my needle.”

Jarvis reluctantly began playing the Jingle Bells remix, Tony dancing to it in a way that maybe he shouldn’t be doing in front of a camera.

Looking at the pile of suit pieces resting on a table, Tony shot out an arm in its direction, the other poised behind his head in a fist. Nothing happened.

Tony tried again. “. . . Crap.”

Just as he was sucking on one of his injections, trying to get it to work, the workroom doors slid open.

Stephen looked at him. “Having fun without me?”

Tony huffed. “Would be if this thing would just . . .” He pointed his arm again, smiling victoriously when one of the gauntlets flew over and attached itself to him, spreading over the hand and forearm. “Alright! Now we’re getting somewhere!”

Stephen watched with mild amusement that quickly turned to concern when the next piece, a part of the shoulder, sent Tony reeling back a few inches. “Is this a good idea?”

“Why do you think I’m testing it?” The next arm when on easily. Tony smiled at Stephen. “See? I think we got this, go ahead and send them all.”

“Tony, please do not—”

Parts of the new suit starting flying over, starting relatively well with a leg until a different piece slammed into one of the suit’s glass case. Which still wasn’t _quite_ as stressful as Tony barely keeping one of them from hitting him in the head and accidentally smacking it into a light.

“Tony!”

“Yeah, I know. Can we slow it down just a tad—” Tony dropped to the floor as another part almost flew into him. “—please.” Tony made a painful sound as the groin piece attached, connecting to the legs.

“You okay?” Stephen asked, covering his own head just in case.

Tony ignored him. “Jarvis, will you cool it—” One of the back pieces sent him tumbling forward, barely able to turn on his flight repulsors fast enough to keep from landing face-first on the floor. “Cool it, will you, Jarvis?”

“You’re doing great, Tony.”

“Thanks, muffin.”

“Don’t call me— duck!”

Tony didn’t have time to make a joke before the chest and backpieces arrived, leaving only the faceplate, hovering threateningly.

“Come on,” Tony challenged. “I’m not scared of you.”

“Tony, what have we said about you talking to the suits—”

The faceplate knocked into a table on its way over to Tony, turning it around. Moving quickly, Tony flipped around in the air, the final piece of the suit integrating into the whole as Tony landed on the ground, punching the floor for full dramatic effect.

Stephen stared. “Okay, that was hot.”

Tony smirked. “Told you. I’m the best—”

A stray piece flew into Tony’s ass, sending him flying to the ground and knocking the suit to pieces.

Stephen looked at him. “That was less hot.”

* * *

“ _Iron Patriot_ ,” Tony said, shaking his head at the TV in disgust.

Rhodey sighed. “Look, War Machine was a little too aggressive, alright? This sends a better message.”

Tony rolled his eyes, deciding to shelf the conversation for now. They had more important things to handle. “So what's really going on? With the Mandarin?”

Rhodey looked away.

Tony leaned into him, lowering his voice so no one in the crowded restaurant could head them. “Seriously, can we talk about this guy?”

“It's _classified information_ , Tony,” Rhodey said, looking around them.

Tony waited.

Rhodey sighed. “Okay, there have been nine bombings.

 _Nine,_ Tony thought, his blood curdling in anger. How many people? How many more?

“The public only knows about three. Here's the thing, nobody can ID a device. There's no bomb casings.”

“You know I can help,” Tony said quickly, “just ask. I got a ton of new tech, I got a prehensile suit, I got a new bomb disposal. Catches explosions mid-air.”

Rhodey watched him, his eyes moving from the bags under Tony’s to the exaggerated movement of his hands. “When's the last time you got a good night's sleep?”

Rhodey always saw right through him. Kind of annoying, actually. “Einstein slept three hours a year. Look what he did.”

“People are _concerned_ about you, Tony,” Rhodey said quietly. “I'm concerned about you. Stephen told me you’re not doing well.”

“What, so now you talk to Stephen?” Tony asked, stung, but not really surprised by Stephen’s betrayal.

“Tones, he’s worried about you. He told me you don’t sleep most days, and that when you do you have nightmares, and when you have nightmares you get up and spend the rest of the day in your workshop. He thinks you should see a therapist, and I agree with him.”

“You’re gonna come at me like that?” Tony asked, raising his voice slightly and sitting up straighter.

“Look, I'm not trying to be a dic—”

Two kids walked up to their table.

“—tator.”

The girl, older and taller than the little boy at her side, handed a piece of paper to Tony. “Do you mind signing my drawing?”

“If Richard doesn't mind,” Tony said with a smile, gesturing to Rhodey. “You alright with this, Dick?”

Rhodey rolled his eyes playfully. “Fine with me.”

Tony smiled, looking down at the drawing. It was him in the Iron Man suit, the missile from New York on his back. Stark Tower was below him, blue light erupting from the top.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Erin.”

Tony nodded slightly before taking the offered crayon and writing.

Beside him, Rhodey said, whispering so as not to bring the kids into this, “Listen, the Pentagon is scared. After what happened in New York . . . aliens—”

Tony’s hand stuttered.

“—they need to look strong. Stopping the Mandarin is a priority, but it's not . . .”

“It's not superhero business,” Tony said quietly, trying to ignore the images flashing through his head. “I get it.”

“No, it's not, quite frankly. It's American business.”

“ _That's why I said I—_ ” Tony pressed down too hard, breaking the crayon. “—got it.” Tony shook his head, raising a hand to his face.

“Are you okay?” Rhodey asked, worried.

“I broke the crayon,” Tony said quietly, thinking of portals and aliens and missiles and darkness and _falling—_

“Are you okay, Mr. Stark?” Erin asked at the same time Rhodey said, “Take it easy, Tony.”

Someone was whispering to him, saying, “How did you get out of the wormhole?”

Tony stood up, his movements slow and jerky as he walked out, his breath and thoughts coming too fast and too slow. “Sorry,” he said as he bumped into someone, eyes jumping around desperately. “Have to check on the suit . . . make sure . . .”

The suit was outside where he left it, and it opened immediately for Tony, who stepped into it. “Check the heart, check the . . . check the— the brain.”

“No sign of cardiac anomaly _or_ unusual brain activity,” Jarvis informed him.

“Okay, so I was poisoned?” Tony asked, his breathing easier now.

“My diagnosis is that you've experienced a _severe_ anxiety attack.”

Tony stared at the screens, waiting for the joke to come before what Jarvis said sank in. “ _Me?_ ”

Rhodey tapped the suit. “Tones, are you okay? C’mon, open up.”

“Sorry, I gotta split.”

Tony backed away from Rhodey and took off before he could protest.

* * *

Tony sent the contracts for the most recent prosthetic designs off to Pepper before immediately switching his screen to the information compiled about the Mandarin attacks. “Jarvis, why don’t we—”

“Tony!”

“Nevermind.”

Stephen was inside in an instant, asking, “What happened with Rhodey?”

“Nothing. We had a nice chat.”

“Really?” Stephen demanded, walking around the tables until he was standing across from Tony. “Then why did he just call me and tell me that you took off in the middle of lunch after panicking with no explanation?”

Tony shook his head. “Ugh, that man is such a gossip. I don’t know why we talk to him.”

“Sometimes I wonder why he talks to us.” Stephen swiped the screen away. “What happened, Tony?”

Tony pulled the screen back up. “Nothing.”

Stephen watched him for a few seconds. Then— “Jarvis, what happened at lunch?”

“J—”

“According to my diagnosis, Mister Stark had a panic attack.”

Tony smacked the table, which, yeah, bad idea, but there was no reason for Stephen to know that. “Jarvis, you traitor!”

“Sir, I believe you were the one who gave Doctor Strange access to your medical information in the event of an emergency.”

“It wasn’t an emergency!” Tony snapped.

Stephen stared at him, moving back slightly. “Obviously.”

Tony sighed, looking away. “It was nothing, alright? I got upset, I left, it was fine. Can we move on?”

 _No_ , we can’t! This is something we need to talk about!”

“Jarvis, remind me to take Stephen off the list of people allowed in the workshop, and also the penthouse and Stark Tower.”

“Oh, so _mature_ , Tony! This is exactly why—”

“Sir,” Jarvis interrupted, “you have a call.”

“Oh, too bad Stephen, I know how much you hate to be interrupted when you’re in rant mode. Who is it?”

“Mister Hogan.”

“Put him through.”

Stephen, apparently undeterred, folded his arms and leaned against the table to wait them out.

The call didn’t take long. Happy, who was still working in California as Pepper’s new head of security, was suspicious of quite literally everything and had no problem calling Tony up because some random guy from Switzerland looked at him funny and showed Pepper his “big brain”. Tony thought it was probably nothing, but Happy decided to follow him.

Tony dutifully prepared himself for the harassment lawsuit to follow.

Stephen stared at him. “Can we talk now?”

Tony sighed. “Can’t we just let it go?”

“No, Tony! You’ve done nothing but think and build for months now! You don’t sleep, you barely eat, you don’t talk to me about any of it, and now you want me to say it’s fine!”

“It _is_ fine!” Tony yelled, his hands tightening their grip on the table.

“ _No it’s not, Tony!_ ” Stephen yelled back before taking a breath. “It’s not fine, Tony. This paranoia, this _obsession_ . . . you’re not taking care of yourself. Tony, please.” Stephen reached forward, cupping Tony’s cheek. “I’m worried about you.”

Tony was still for a moment before relaxing, putting his hand over Stephen’s. “I can’t sleep,” Tony said quietly, looking down. “I have nightmares and I can’t sleep, and it was bad before, but it’s only gotten worse. I _am_ trying, but nothing . . .” Tony sighed. “We’ll keep trying,” Stephen said. “We’ll figure it out. I just want you to be okay again.”

Tony laughed harshly. “I haven’t been okay since Afghanistan. But since New York . . . I just _know_ that something’s coming. Something’s coming, and I need to protect us. But _this—_ ” Tony gestured to the workshop— “and the suits, that makes me feel better. Keeping us safe, keeping _you_ safe, makes me feel better.”

“Tony . . . I love the suits. And I love Iron Man, and I love your brain and everything you’ve done and everything you _are_ , but this isn’t enough. This isn’t making you better.”

“I know. I know. But I don’t know if I can handle it today.”

Stephen started to speak.

“ _Tomorrow._ Okay? We’re not doing anything tomorrow, and I want to take the rest of today to just not think about it. Let’s just . . . _exist_ for a while.”

Slowly, Stephen nodded. “Fine. But you _are_ going to exist _with me_. No disappearing down here. We’re gonna go upstairs and lay down and watch TV.”

“Awesome.”

“But first I’m gonna take a shower.”

“I’ll get the popcorn ready—”

“No,” Stephen said with a smile, pressing into him, “you’re gonna join me.”

“Oh, that’s way better than what I had in mind.”

* * *

Tony was falling. Tony was falling, and sweating, and crying, and screaming, and _no one could hear him—_

“Tony, come on—”

Stephen, Stephen was there, he was in New York, he was going to get hurt, he was going to die and Tony couldn’t _do anything—_

“Tony, sweetheart—”

Something was shaking him, something was coming for him, for _them_ , and he couldn’t keep them safe, he couldn’t keep _anyone_ safe, they were going to die and it was all _his fault—_

Tony snapped awake at the sound of Stephen yelling out in fear. The Mark 42 was standing over him, blue eyes glowing menacingly. Stephen lay paralyzed in bed, and Tony had to do something, he had to _move—_

“Power down!” Tony shouted, jumping out of bed.

The suit shut off, still obedient, before Tony collapsed it, making it fall to the ground in pieces.

Tony sighed, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry, I must have called it in my sleep . . . that’s not . . . that’s not supposed to happen.” He was panting, his face covered in sweat from his dreams. Stephen was staring at him with wide eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Am I alright?” Stephen repeated quietly. “Tony . . . we are so _fucking far_ past the point of alright.” Stephen shut his eyes, turning away from the remains of the suit. “You need to see a professional.”

Tony froze. “I thought we were done with this.”

“Like Hell, we are!” Stephen tried to calm himself, his hand forming a fist. “Tony, when I say you should see a therapist, I'm not saying it because it's inconvenient to me or because I want to save face. I'm worried about you, about your health. I want you to be able to live your life without worrying about any of the thousands of things you convince yourself are problems.”

“They are problems.”

“Maybe, but they're not problems you should obsess over every second of your life!”

“Not every second. Sometimes we have sex.”

“That's not a long-term solution.”

“Not with that attitude.”

Stephen dragged his hands over his face in frustration. “Tony, I love you, I want more than _anything_ to be with you! But I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”

Tony stared at him. “You can’t . . . you can’t leave me.”

“I don’t want to! But I can’t sit here and watch you do this to yourself! This isn’t _good_ for us, it's not good for _anyone_ , least of all you! Tony, I want—”

“Mister Stark,” Jarvis’s voice chimed urgently. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but there’s been an emergency in California. Mister Hogan was hurt and subsequently hospitalized.”

Stephen and Tony stopped moving, staring at each other. After a moment, Tony rubbed his face, shaking his head. “J, get . . . get one of my suits ready, I need to get there as fast as . . . and call Pepper if you haven’t already, make sure she knows what happened.” He glanced at Stephen. “I’m sorry, I have—”

“I know,” Stephen said quietly, all the anger from before gone. “Go to California. Happy needs you.”

Tony didn’t move for a while. Then he kissed Stephen’s temple and went downstairs.

* * *

_“True story about fortune cookies. They look Chinese, they sound Chinese, but they're actually an American invention. Which is why they're hollow, full of lies, and leave a bad taste in the mouth. My disciples just destroyed another cheap American knock-off, The Chinese Theater. Mr. President, I know this must be getting frustrating, but this season of terror is drawing to a close. And don't worry, the big one is coming; your graduation.”_

* * *

“Do you mind leaving that on?” Tony gestured to the TV. “Sunday night's _Downtown Abbey_. That's his show, he thinks it's elegant.”

“I’ll make sure it stays on,” the nurse promised, standing at Happy’s bedside.

Tony nodded his head in thanks, rising to leave. There was nothing else he could do there, and a monster to track down. “One more thing . . . make sure everyone wears their badges. He's a stickler for that sort of thing, plus my guys won't let anyone in without them.” His voice was too quiet, nothing like how he normally was, but he pushed past it, heading to the door.

As soon as he was out of the hospital doors, reporters swarmed him.

“Mister Stark! Mister Stark—”

“Our sources are telling us that this is another Mandarin attack. Is there anything—”

“What happened at the Chinese theatre?”

“—you can tell us?”

Tony ignored them, walking to his car with his sunglasses hiding his eyes.

“Hey, Mister Stark! When is somebody gonna kill this guy?”

Tony stilled before turning to face the reporter.

The man shrugged awkwardly. “Just sayin’.”

“Is that what you want?” Tony demanded.

The crowd was quiet.

“Here's a little Holiday greeting I've been wanting to send to the Mandarin,” Tony said, the reporters hanging on his every word. “I just didn't know how to phrase it until now. My name is Tony Stark and I'm not afraid of you. I know you're a _coward_ , so I've decided—” he took off his glasses, facing a camera “—that you just died. I'm gonna come get the body. There's no politics here. It's just good old-fashioned revenge. There's no Pentagon, it's just _you_ and _me_. And on the off-chance you're a man, here's my home address: 10-88-0, Malibu Port, 90265.” Tony smiled. “I'll leave the door unlocked.”

* * *

“I've compiled a Mandarin database for you, sir,” Jarvis said. “Drawn from S.H.I.E.L.D., F.B.I., and C.I.A. intercepts. Initiating virtual crime scene reconstruction.”

Tony set the hologram on a table and started looking through what they had. The name . . . "’Adviser to the King’. South American insurgency tactics, talks like a Baptist preacher. There's lots of pageantry going on here lots of . . . _theater_.”

“The heat from the blast was in excess of three thousand degrees Celsius,” Jarvis informed him. “Any subjects within twelve and a half yards were vaporized instantly.”

Tony considered it. “No bomb parts found in a three-mile radius of the Chinese theater?”

“No, sir.”

Tony shook his head. “Talk to me, Happy.” In the hologram, Happy was pointing at something. _Dog tags. Why dog tags?_ “When is a bomb not a bomb?” Tony muttered, scanning the reconstructed dog tags. “Any military victims?”

“Not according to public records, sir.”

“Hm.” Tony shot to his feet, sitting on top of a bench to get a better view. “Bring up the thermogenic signatures again, factor in three thousand degrees.” The reconstruction changed to a map of the U.S., showing places where there’d been occurrences of unnaturally high temperatures. “Take away everywhere that there's been a Mandarin attack.” More than half of the marks went away. Of the ones that remained, only one has the right heat signature. _Rose Hill, Tennessee._ “ _That._ You sure that's not one of his?”

“It predates any known Mandarin attack,” Jarvis said, showing him the information they had about it anyway. “The incident was the use of a bomb to assist a suicide. The heat signature is remarkably similar. Three thousand degrees Celsius.”

The man who committed suicide — and took six people with him — was Chad Davis. But that wasn’t nearly as interesting as ‘U.S. Army’. “That's two military guys.” Way too close to be a coincidence. “Ever been to Tennessee, Jarvis?”

Just as Jarvis started making their flight plan, the doorbell rang.

Tony looked up at the ceiling, annoyed. “Are we still at _ding-dong_? We're supposed to be on _total security lockdown_! Come on, I threatened a terrorist. Who is that?”

“There's only so much I can do, sir, when you give the world's press your home address.”

Tony sighed, rising to put on one of the suits he’d brought with him. “Fine, I’ll check it out.”

* * *

_Really,_ Tony thought as his phone rang and Pepper insisted he leave town over the house intercom, _you want to call_ now? He’d been wondering when Stephen would find out, but he couldn’t have waited ten minutes? At least until he figured out why a botanist he knew for one night over a decade ago wanted to see him _now_.

“Do you mind if I take this?” Tony asked, interrupting both women. “No, thanks.” Tony mentally counted to three before answering.

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!”

“Hi, honey.”

“I’M NOT IN YOUR LINE OF SIGHT FOR TEN _FUCKING MINUTES_ AND YOU _THREATEN A TERRORIST?!_ ”

“It’s not that bad!”

“YOU ARE COMING BACK TO NEW YORK _RIGHT NOW!_ ”

“Listen to him, Tony,” Pepper snapped at him. Honestly, whatever happened to not listening in on people’s conversations?

“That’s a great idea,” Maya piped in. “Let’s go. I’ll—”

“I’m sorry,” Tony said, growing more and more annoyed, “I don’t really care what you do, but I’m staying here.”

“Tony,” Stephen said, his voice shaking from the effort of not trying to strangle Tony through the phone, “who is that and why are you disagreeing with their sane advice?!”

“It’s not safe out there! I can’t protect anyone out there!”

“You might have thought of that before you _threatened a terrorist!_ ”

“I thought we were past that!”

“Tony!” Maya shouted to get his attention, pointing to a TV that had been showing the news helicopters outside the mansion. “Do we need to worry about that?”

Something was heading to the house.

“Tony?” Stephen asked, an edge of worry to his voice. “What’s happening?”

The wall exploded.

“ _Tony!_ ”

* * *

As soon as Stephen stepped out the plane, Pepper was there to greet him, filling him in on what had happened. Stephen barely heard more than a few words. His mind felt wrong, too slow and tired and scared to make sense of what was happening.

They walked and Stephen asked questions.

What did they know? _The house was attacked and destroyed._ That seemed impossible. There was a time when he thought they would live together. He hadn’t considered it for long, because he loved New York, but he thought he could manage it if Tony wanted.

What else? _The Mandarin was behind it._ He should have been there. He could have kept Tony calm, kept him from putting himself in danger like that. He should have never let him leave his side.

What about Tony? _Tony’s missing. They think he’s—_

“ _No_ ,” Stephen said, stopping abruptly. “Tony’s not dead.” Tony couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t be, and if he was . . .

 _No._ The last time he ever saw Tony, ever heard his voice, couldn’t end in an argument, it just _couldn’t_. He had to be okay. He _was_ okay. Stephen knew it. Tony had survived terrorists and traitors and madmen and aliens. It took more than a missile or two to keep him down. “I don’t care what it takes, we’re going to find him.” He sounded so sure, he believed himself. “Tell me more.”

* * *

_The water surrounded him, growing_ _black as he fell deeper, concrete and metal dragging him down, down to the stars where he couldn’t breathe and no one would find him—_

“Sir?” someone called out dimly, too far away to hear properly. “ _Sir?_ ” Closer now. Closer and louder and, what was that blaring noise?

“Kill the alarm,” Tony said, his voice too quiet as he dragged himself to wakefulness. “I got it.”

“That's the emergency alert triggered by the power dropping below five percent.” Which was pretty bad since they were flying— _oh, shit_ _—_

Tony screamed as he crashed, tearing through half of a snow-covered forest before finally landing, the suit unable to go on any longer. Tony rolled onto his back, more exhausted than he’d felt in years, and pulled off the faceplate, catching his breath.

It was snowing, little flakes of white that fell peacefully on his face. Not home then, unless the barely-functioning prototype suit had somehow dragged him all the way to New York. Which, oh, was not a thought he wanted. He couldn’t think of home right now, of Stephen and how he must be feeling and what a goddamn idiot he was—

“Jarvis,” Tony said, more to distract himself at this point, “where are we, upstate?”

“We're five miles outside of Rose Hills, Tennessee.”

 _Oh, come on!_ “Why?! Not my idea, Jarvis! What are we doing here? This is thousands of miles away!”

“I prepared a flight plan. This was the location.”

“Who asked you?” Tony sighed, ready for this year to be over. “Open the suit.”

Nothing happened.

“J?”

“I . . . I think I may be malfunctioning, sir,” Jarvis told him, his voice scrambled and mechanical.

 _Well, this just keeps getting better._ “Open it, J.” The suit managed to open. Tony sat up, immediately slapped in the face by the cold. “Oh, fuck, that’s brisk!” He blew on his hands in an attempt to warm him, remembering why he preferred California. He leaned back into the suit. “Maybe I’ll just cozy back up for—”

“I think I need to sleep now, sir,” Jarvis said, the suit whirring as it lost power.

“Jarvis?” Tony said.

No response.

“Jarvis?” He asked quietly. “Don't leave me, buddy.”

He waited for Jarvis to respond, but nothing happened. He was alone.

* * *

Tony managed to drag the suit to a gas station without dying and leave a message to Stephen before finding what looked like an abandoned farmhouse. It was surprisingly not horrible, providing enough shelter that he felt comfortable taking off the poncho he’d stolen off a statue at the gas station, and had some sort of building equipment and furniture inside. He dropped the suit on a couch before falling beside it, exhausted. _God, when was the last time I slept the night through?_ It must have been weeks ago. His head was pounding, and there were bits of glass in his skin from when the mansion’s windows were destroyed. He would have given anything for a drink in that moment. But even if he hadn’t quit, there was nothing around, and he needed his head clear if he was going to think of what to do next.

He was trying to pull the glass out of his arm with a pair of pliers when a two-year-old (guesstimating) pointed a potato gun at him.

* * *

News reporters, firefighters, cops, and more surrounded the burnt wreckage of the mansion. It was dark now, and if he hadn’t known any better, he might have thought that the smoke and dust were blotting out the sun.

After a while, Stephen didn’t notice the people milling around him. He was too busy walking through the blackened remains of the building, looking for some sign that Tony was alright. What he found was an older Iron Man helmet, long outdated and left behind in California when most of the suits had been transported to the tower, covered in soot and scuff marks with a slash through one side of the face, starting at the forehead and ending below the mouth. Stephen went to his knees to pick it up, cradling it in his hands. He thought someone might be speaking to him. He couldn’t hear them.

Stephen ran gentle fingers over the scars of the helmet, turning it over until it was staring at him. Where was Tony? Had he gotten away in a suit somehow? The new one could be called to him. He’d seen it. But did it work? Was it in time? Or was he trapped under the water, unable to move or call for help? Could he breathe? Did it remind him of the cave in Afghanistan, of being waterboarded, tortured?

Would he drown like Donna had?

Stephen shivered, pressing the helmet to him, nose to nose so that he was staring it in the eyes. The eyes were cold and empty, but it was _him_.

Stephen held it closer.

He was so lost in thought that it took him a moment to notice the beeping.

Stunned, barely aware of his own actions, turned the helmet around, looking inside. A red light blinked at him.

Stephen didn’t hesitate to put the helmet on, fitting it over his head blinking at the blue lights that came to life.

The lights scanned him. _“Stark secure server, retinal scan verified.”_

 _“Stephen, it's me.”_ Stephen could have wept when Tony’s voice surrounded him. He had to concentrate to hear the rest of the message. _“I've got a lot of apologies to make and not a lot of time. So first off, I'm so sorry I put us all in harm's way. That was selfish and stupid and it won't happen again. And I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you before. I should have and I’m probably going to have to say it again in the future, but you knew what you were getting into when we got together, so. And I'm sorry in advance because . . . I can't come home yet. I need to find this guy. You gotta keep your head down, stay safe. I have to keep you safe. I’ll try to come home soon.”_

Stephen felt tears fall down his face. _Knew you wouldn’t leave me._

* * *

Stephen looked at the backseat where Maya Hansen and Pepper were, Maya because Stephen didn’t trust her near the wheel and Pepper to keep an eye on their “guest”.

After a while on the road, Pepper glanced at Stephen and said, “Bruce?”

He shook his head. “Not really the sort of hero you want for a situation like this. Too delicate.”

“Thor?”

“On Asgard.”

“And everyone else is with SHIELD at the moment. I swear, the one time the house was quiet . . .”

The car was silent for a long time, no one trusting themselves to speak. Finally, Pepper turned to Maya. “Why were you at the house tonight? What was so important that you had to speak to Tony?”

Maya hesitated a moment before saying, “I’m is a biological DNA coder with AIM. I work for Aldrich Killian.”

Though Pepper seemed surprised, Stephen just said, “That’s _fascinating_ , want to say something important any time soon?”

Maya gave Stephen a dirty look. “I think that my boss is working for the Mandarin.”

Stephen, without hesitation, pulled over on the side of the road, parking the car. He turned to stare at Maya. “And we let you get in the car with us _why_ exactly?”

“Stephen—”

“No, Pepper, I want to know why the hell someone working with the person who tried to _murder my boyfriend is sitting in my fucking car!_ ”

“Hey, I’m trying to make things right!” Maya yelled back before lowering her voice. “You think I don’t know how bad this is? How many people have been hurt? How many might have been hurt because of us? I came here _hoping_ I could maybe help fix it! So can we _please_ just get somewhere safe so we can talk about it?”

Stephen stared at her, seriously considering driving them to the nearest police station, before saying in a clipped tone, “Fine. But if I think for even a second that you’re a threat, I will not hesitate to throw you in a locked room with the Hulk and lose the key.”

* * *

So, it turned out kids were not entirely useless. Take that, Howard.

Harley was willing to help once it became clear who Tony was and that the situation was dire, although they had to walk to town to get supplies and continue investigating.

“When can we talk about New York?” Harley asked.

 _Huh. So I’m not the only one capable of fucking up a conversation in two seconds. Stephen’ll faint._ “Never, relax about it.” He kept walking.

Harley was relentless. “What about The Avengers, can you talk about them?”

“I don’t _know_ , will you stop asking? Give me a little . . .” Tony trailed off as they came upon the broken remains of a building, lovingly decorated with crosses, lit candles, and flowers both fresh and old. “What's the official story here?” Tony asked, gently toeing around the walls. “What happened?”

Harley carefully set down in a crater in the middle of the broken stone. “I guess this guy named Chad Davis, used to live around here, won a bunch of medals in the army. One day, folks said he went crazy and made, you know, a bomb. Then he blew himself up right here.”

Tony traced his fingers down the shadow of a person, imprinted on the wall. “Six people died, right? Including Chad Davis?”

“Yeah.”

Tony looked at the shadows, shaking his head. “Doesn’t make sense.” He sat next to the kid. “Six dead, only five shadows?”

Harley was quieter than he had been, looking at the remains for a moment before ducking his head. “Some people said these shadows are like the mark of souls gone to Heaven. Except the bomb guy, he went to Hell, so he didn't get a shadow. That's why there's only five.”

They were silent for a moment before Harley said, “You know what this crater reminds me of?”

“Don’t really care.”

“That giant _wormhole_ , in New York.”

Tony sighed, leaning his head into his hand. _For Christ’s sake._

“Does it remind you?”

“That’s manipulative. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Harley must have had even worse manners than him, because he just. Kept. _Pressing._ “Are they coming back? The aliens?”

“ _Maybe_ , I don’t— will you _stop_? Remember when I told you, that I have an anxiety issue?” Fuck, what was happening to him? Why did he feel so hot when it was snowing? Why did his skin feel like it was trying to crawl off him?

“Does talking about New York make you edgy?”

“Little bit, will you give me a minute to catch my breath?”

The kid was really bad at reading the room. “Are there bad guys in Rose Hills? Do you . . . do you need a plastic bag to breathe into? Do you have medication?

“No.”

“Do you need to be on it?”

“Probably.” _THERE, Stephen, are you happy now? Are you fucking—_

“Do you have PTSD?”

“I don’t think so.” Didn’t matter what Stephen had to say about it, he wasn’t even a psychiatrist, just a neurosurgeon, he didn’t know what he was talking about, he couldn’t see Tony right now, he wasn’t there, he was gone, he wasn’t _there_ —

“Are you okay? Are you . . . are you going completely mental? I can stop, do you want me to stop—”

“Remember when I specifically asked you to stop?! I swear to God, you’re gonna—” Tony stood, not noticing the way his legs shook. “There, you did it, didn't you? You happy now?” He had to move, he had to get away from this—

He started running without knowing where he was going, just that he couldn’t stand to sit in that crater surrounded by death anymore.

He fell against a wall, pulling off his jacket because his skin was too hot suddenly and he didn’t know what else to do, everything was fucked up—

Tony gathered some snow in his hands to cool himself off, ignoring the voice in his head that sounded like Stephen and was telling him what an absolutely wonderful way to get frostbite that was, and held his face in his cold hands, sighing at the temporary relief.

Harley ran up to him. “What the hell was that?”

Tony looked at the kid in annoyance before throwing the snow at him. “Your fault.” Tony rested his head against the brick wall, taking a few breaths before continuing. “Okay, back to business. The guy who died . . . relatives? Mrs. Davis, where is she?”

Harley, apparently ready to drop the subject of New York, said. “Where she always is.”

* * *

Honestly, you try to do something nice, investigate a not-suicide bombing in an effort to help stop a terrorist, and what happens? People try to arrest you.

And blow you up.

And drop a water tower on you.

And try to murder a child.

Really, he was most upset about the first thing, the rest was commonplace.

“You're welcome,” Harley said, walking down the street with Tony, trying to seem inconspicuous and police and paramedics surrounded the site of the fight.

Tony glanced at him, trying to figure out a way to hold Chad Davis’s file without making it obvious to anyone how important it was. “For what? Did I miss something?”

“ _Me_ , saving your life.”

Tony huffed. “Uh, A, saved you first. B, thanks, sort of. And C, if you do someone a solid, don't be a yutz. All right? Just play it cool. Otherwise, you come off grandiose.” Tony unlocked the now dead lackey’s car, opening it and throwing the file into the passenger’s seat.

“Oh, unlike you?” Harley challenged while Tony got in the car, briefly turning to shoot an annoyed look at him. “Admit it, you need me. We're connected.”

“What I _need_ is for you to go home, be with your mom, keep your trap shut, guard the suit, and stay connected to the telephone because if I call, you better pick up. Okay? You feel that? We're done here. Move out of the way, or I'm gonna run you over.” He started the car, but Harley wouldn’t budge, still standing at his window. Tony sighed. “I'm sorry, kid. You did good.”

“So, now you're just gonna leave me here?” Harley asked quietly. “Like my dad?”

“Yeah. Bye.”

* * *

The most luck he’d had in the past week was that there was a news broadcast happening nearby and no one was paying much attention to who slipped in and out of the vans. Rhodey had gotten him into one of AIM’s comms, but now he needed a way to track the Mandarin, and that was not gonna work with this internet speed—

Someone opened the van’s backdoor, leaning in to say, “Excuse me, sir, I don’t know who you are—”

Tony spun around slowly on his chair, watching the man’s mouth fall open as he realized who it was.

Staring at Tony, the man said to his phone, “I need to call you back, something magical is happening.” Hanging up his phone, the man started freaking out while Tony desperately shushed him. “Tony Stark is in my van!”

“No he’s not!”

“I knew you were still alive!”

Whispering, Tony said, “Come in and close the door.”

The man quickly obeyed, marveling at Tony once the door was shit. “Woah, okay, this is . . . wow!”

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“Can I just say, sir, that my boyfriend and I think you’re great and . . . awesome. Not in a super inappropriate way, I mean, we know you’re dating someone. And you have no idea how cool it is that the first superhero — I mean, after Captain America I guess — is in a relationship with a man.”

“Thank you. That means a lot to me.” _Really hoping to still be in a relationship when I get back . . ._ “But I need to know, is this your van? Is anyone else gonna come in here?”

The man shook his head. “No, it’s just us.”

“Good. What’s your name?”

“Gary.”

“Gary, Gary, good name.” Tony shook his hand, only mildly amused by the euphoric look on Gary’s face.

“You’re saying my name!”

“Yeah.”

“Wow.”

“I get a lot of this.”

“I’m sure. And I don’t want to make things awkward for you, but BOOM!” Gary ripped his sleeve up, showing Tony a tattoo of his face and okay, this was starting to be a bit much.

“Wow. Your boyfriend was okay with that?”

“He has a matching one!”

“Cute couple. Okay, Gary,” Tony grabbed the other man by his shoulders, leaning in to emphasize the importance of what he was saying. “I need you to listen to me now. I'm chasing bad guys. I'm trying to grab a little something from some hard-crypt data files. I don't have enough juice. I need you to jump on the roof, right? Calibrate the lSDNs. Pump it up by about forty percent. Got it?”

Gary nodded slowly, like he was in a dream. “Got it.”

“Okay? It’s a mission.”

“I understand.”

“Tony needs Gary.”

“And Gary needs Tony. I won’t let you down.”

“Thank you. Be careful, be quiet, don’t let anyone know what’s going on.”

Gary nodded once more and ran outside, shutting the door behind him. Within a few minutes, things were going well enough for Tony to try getting into AIM’s files, and . . .

 _There we go._ He clicked on the first thing he saw, a video with— oh.

A voice that registered as dimly familiar asked, _“What would you regard as the defining moment of your life?”_

 _“Well,”_ Chad Davis said, _“I think that would be the day I decided not to let my injury beat me.”_

The next one he found was of the woman who attacked him in Rose Hill, Ellen Brandt. In the video, her left arm was cut off just above the elbow.

The image changed, showing someone he hadn’t thought of in years. Or rather, since he spoke to Happy.

 _“So, the injections are administered periodically,”_ Aldrich Killian explained. _“Addiction will not be tolerated, and those who cannot regulate will be out from the program.”_

The video changed again. This time Killian was standing in a room, giving a speech to a group of patients. _“Once misfits, cripples, you are the next iteration of human evolution.”_

A new video, this time to the beginning of the ‘injections’. _“Everybody, before we start . . . I promise you, looking back at your life, there will be nothing as bitter as the memory of that glorious risk you prudently elected to forego. Today is your glory. Let's begin.”_

Tony watched with slowly mounting horror as the people began screaming in pain as they glowed bright orange, their limbs regrowing, first looking like molten lava before turning flesh-colored.

One man was screaming louder than the rest, his voice like a demon’s as his skeleton was lit up golden orange. Killian, looking at him, said, “We gotta get out of here! Get everyone you can out! Get her out!”

The glowing light filled every pore of the dying man, turning his eyes into beacons as fire filled his mouth. In seconds, the room was destroyed, engulfed in flames.

Tony kept staring after the video ended. “A bomb’s not a bomb when it’s a misfire. It doesn’t always, work right, but you found a buyer, huh Killian? Sold it to the Mandarin?” Tony smiled. “Got you.”

* * *

“Fun fact,” Maya said once they finally made it to her hotel. “Before he built rockets for the Nazis, the _idealistic_ Wernher von Braun dreamed of space travel. He stargazed.”

“Yeah, I don’t really care about that,” Stephen interrupted.

“Stephen,” Pepper chided him.

“No, Pepper,” Stephen snapped, “I don’t want to hear her pitiful excuses or tearful reminiscences, I want to know what the fuck she knows about Tony and the Mandarin—”

Someone knocked.

“I’ll get it,” Pepper said quietly. Stephen stayed sitting with Maya, never looking away from her.

So he didn’t see anything until Pepper screamed and tried to run back inside, only to be caught by the arm and swung into a wall, a well-dressed blond man holding her by the throat. The man smiled. “Hi, Pepper.”

Stephen had already shot up and started moving towards them, not really knowing what he would do other than that he had to do something to help Pepper, but the man, staring at him, tightened his grip on her neck, saying, “Not a step closer, or she dies.”

Stephen stopped, not knowing what to do. If he’d thought to bring one of Tony’s suits along from New York, they might have had _something_ , but as it was all he could do was try not to get them hurt. He stood still, halfway to Pepper.

The man nodded at Stephen before looking past him to Maya. “So, you want to tell me why you were at Stark's mansion last night?”

“I'm trying to fix this thing! I didn't know you and the master were gonna blow the place up!”

“Oh, I see. So, you were trying to save Stark when he threatened us?” Pepper whimpered when he reflexively tightened his hold on her.

“I've told you, Killian, we can _use_ him. Look, if we want to launch the product next year, I need Stark. He just lacked a decent incentive. Now, he has one.”

Stephen had been ignoring them until that point, keeping an eye on Pepper and cataloging the potential damage down to her throat and what treatment he could administer without a hospital. Now he turned sharply on Maya. “Oh, I knew I didn’t like you.”

* * *

“Tell me what’s happening, Harley.” Tony was still driving aimlessly down the road, trying to get as far away from the attack as he could, but without an update, there wasn’t much he could do.

“I’m still eating candy,” Harley told him. “Do you want me to keep eating it?”

“How much have you had?”

“Um . . . about two or three bowls.”

“Can you still see straight?”

“. . . Sort of?”

“You're fine, give me Jarvis. Jarvis, how are we?”

“It's totally fine, sir,” Jarvis said, already sounding better, his voice more fluid and natural. “I seem to do quite well for a stretch, and then at the end of the sentence, I say the wrong cranberry. And, sir, you were right. Once I factored in available AIM downlink facilities I was able to pinpoint the Mandarin's broadcast signal.”

“What are we talking? Far East, Europe, Africa, Asia, where is it?” He hoped it wasn’t Afghanistan. One hugely traumatic experience there was enough for him.

“Actually, sir, it's in Miami.”

Tony sighed. “Okay, kid, I'm gonna have to walk you through rebooting Jarvis's speech drive, but not right now just look on the screen and tell me where it is.”

“Um . . . it _does_ say Miami, Florida.”

 _Florida man?_ Shaking the thought away, Tony said, “Okay, first things first, I need the armor. Where are we at with it?”

“It's not charging.”

Tony swerved to the side, pulling over off the road when he felt his hands start to shake. His feelings weren’t swayed when Jarvis explained, “Actually, sir, it is charging, but the power source is questionable. It may not succeed in revitalizing the Mark 42.”

“What's questionable about electricity?” Tony demanded, hating the tremor in his voice. “All right? It's my suit, and I can't, I'm not gonna . . . I don't wanna . . .” His breaths were coming out heavy, shaking his chest and making his heart hurt. “Oh, God, not again.” He opened the door, too claustrophobic to stay in the car, and tumbled outside, only distantly hearing Harley ask what was happening.

“Are you okay? Are you having another attack? I didn't even mention New York.”

“Right, and then you just said it by name while denying having said it!” Tony said, falling down along the side of the car, desperately trying to regain control of his thoughts. “Oh, God, what am I gonna do?”

“Just breathe. Really, just breathe.”

_Just breathe? Are you kidding me, my lungs feel like they’re about to fall out—_

“You're a mechanic, right?”

Tony swallowed past the weight in his throat. “Right.”

“You said so. Why don't you just build something?”

The thought took root in his mind, stabilizing him, giving him something to hold onto. His thoughts slowed their race, centering around the idea of doing something, of being useful. After a moment, Tony nodded. “Build something. Yeah. Thanks, kid.”

* * *

Makeshift weapon supplies? Check.

Actual makeshift weapons? Check.

Disguise of a hoodie, sunglasses, and hat? _Double check._

It was daylight by the time he made it to Miami. Though guards circled the mansion Jarvis had tracked, it was easy to get over the outermost wall and take them down a few at a time, one with a dart to the neck, another with the electric glove, and a couple with his personal favorites, the Christmas decoration bombs.

Once he was inside, the mansion was abandoned except for a few people. The entry hall had a woman passed out on the floor, but it still took a few tries for him to find a room with anyone awake (and possibly alive). The next people he saw were a man and another scantily clad, half passed out woman arguing about the temperature. She didn’t seem to mind when Tony knocked the guy out and took his gun, simply pointing at him cheerily and waving goodbye when he left.

Finally he found what seemed like the master bedroom, but when he pulled the covers back on the bed, all he found was two (very attractive) women who didn’t seem super excited about the strange man with the gun, which, y’know, fair.

Before any of them could say anything, the toilet in the ensuite flushed. Tony waved at the women, and they lay back down in the bed while he hid behind a privacy screen.

The Mandarin, for some reason speaking with a British accent, came out laughing and said, “I wouldn't go in there for 20 minutes.” He went over to a tray sat on the nightstand, plucking up a few fortune cookies from a bowl. “Now, which one of you is Vanessa?”

“That’s me,” one of the women said quietly, seeming as out of it as the blonde woman from downstairs.

“Ah, Nessie!” He threw her a cookie. Tony leaned around the screen to stare at him. “Did you know that fortune cookies aren't even Chinese?” He laughed again.

“There's some guy over here—”

“They're made by Americans, based on a Japanese recipe—”

By then Tony was starting to get a headache, so he went ahead and revealed himself, training his gun on the Mandarin and yelling, “Hey!”

The Mandarin froze immediately, staring wide-eyed at Tony before saying, “Bloody hell.”

“Don’t move.”

“I'm not moving! You want something? Take it. Although the guns are all fake because those wankers wouldn't trust me with the real ones.”

“What?” Tony asked, more confused than ever and seriously considering the idea that the Mandarin had an identical twin that had been raised in England. Which . . . wouldn’t be the _weirdest_ thing ever, but definitely up there.

“Hey,” he leaned into him, “fancy either of the birds?”

Now grossed out as well as annoyed, Tony said, “Heard enough. You’re not him.” He cocked the gun, shouting, “The Mandarin, the real guy, _where?!_ ”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” the not-Mandarin said, stumbling over to a chair. Tony followed him, never lowering the gun. “He's here, alright! He's here, but he's not here. He's here, but he's not here.”

“What do you mean?”

The man dithered, saying, “Well, it's complicated, it is.”

“Uncomplicate it.” Tony gestured to the women. “Ladies, out. Get into the bathroom.” The man tried to crawl away while Tony was distracted, Tony shot at the floor next to him, scaring him back into the chair. “Talk!”

Managing to keep some of his cool, the man said, “My name is Trevor. Trevor Slattery.”

“What are you?” Tony asked, lowering the gun slightly. “A decoy? You're a double, right?”

“What, you mean like an understudy?” Trevor asked, sounding offended. “No, absolutely not.”

Tony raised the gun.

“No, don't hurt the face! I'm an _actor_.”

 _This is getting stupider by the second._ “You got a minute to live. Fill it with words.”

Trevor shrugged, looking around as though to find the words to explain this charade. “It's just a role. ‘The Mandarin’, see, it's not real.”

“Then how did you get here, Trevor?”

Trevor sighed. “Well, I, um, had a little problem with, um, substances. And I ended up doing things, no two ways about it, in the street, that a man shouldn't do.”

“Next?” _Please, just stop talking about that._

“ _Then,_ they approached me about the role, and they knew about the drugs.”

“What did they say? They'd get you off them?”

“No, they said they'd give me more. They gave me things.”

Tony stared.

Trevor rolled his eyes, sliding down in the chair. “They gave me things, they gave me this _palace_. They gave me plastic surgery, they gave me _things_.” His eyes closed, followed by a light snore.

Tony smacked him.

“Oh, and a lovely speedboat! And the thing was, he needed someone to take credit for some accidental explosions.” He made a gesture to mimic a bomb exploding, even throwing in a ‘boom’ sound for effect. Tony could never remember being this tired.

“‘He’? Who’s—” Tony sighed. “Killian?”

Trevor shrugged apologetically. “Killian. He . . . created me.”

“A custom-made terror threat,” Tony said quietly, his mind whirring.

“Yes! His think tank thinked it up!” Trevor switched to his ‘Mandarin’ voice, rising from the chair to mess around at the nightstand while Tony sat down and desperately wished for some Aspirin. “The pathology of a serial killer. The manipulation of Western iconography. Ready for another lesson?” He held out a soda to Tony. “Blah, blah, blah!”

When Tony just stared at him, Trevor set the drink down awkwardly and returned to his (somehow, more annoying) normal accent. “Of course, it was _my_ performance that brought the Mandarin to life.”

“Your _performance_?” Tony demanded. “Where people died?”

Trevor had the audacity to look startled. “No, they didn't. Look around you, the costumes, the green screen. Honestly, I wasn't on location for half this stuff. But when I was, it was movie magic, love.”

“First of all, never call me that. Second of all, I got a friend who's in a coma right now and he might not wake up. So you're gonna have to answer for that. You're still going down, pal. You under—” He stopped at the look Trevor’s face and whipped around, but then the hand was at his head, and he was gone. 

* * *

_Really,_ Tony thought, handcuffed to a bed frame in a basement somewhere and staring at an equation he couldn’t remember doing, _this is not how I wanted this day to go._

“Did I do that?”

Maya Hansen stared at him in disbelief. “Yes!”

“I remember the night, not the morning. And honestly, I don’t remember the night. Is this what you've been chasing around?”

“You don’t remember?” Maya sounded broken hearted. Tony thought she might cry.

Tony attempted to shrug. “I can't help you.” He looked at her, a painful, almost scary feeling clawing its way through his chest. It was like looking at himself from five years ago. “You used to have a moral psychology. You used to have ideals. You wanted to help people. Now look at you.”

“You were supposed to fix it,” Maya whispered. Her eyes were wet with tears.

“Get me out of here. Get me out of here, and I’ll try to fix it.”

Before Maya could decide one way or another, the door opened. Aldrich Killian stepped in with a briefcase in hand, already speaking. “You know what my old man used to say to me? ‘The early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.’”

Tony eyed him. “You're not still pissed off about the Switzerland thing, are you?”

Killian shook his head. “How can I be pissed at you, Tony? I want to thank you. You gave me the greatest gift that anybody's ever given me.” Killian stood close enough to him that Tony didn’t feel comfortable trying to move away. “ _Desperation._ If you think back to Switzerland — hard for you, I know — you said you'd meet me on the rooftop, right? Well, for the first . . . twenty minutes, I actually thought you'd show up. And the next hour . . . I considered taking that one-step shortcut to the lobby. If you know what I mean.”

“Honestly, I'm still trying to figure out what happened to the first mouse.”

Killian chuckled, moving back some. “But as I looked out over that city, nobody knew I was there, nobody could see me, no one was even looking. I had a thought that would guide me for years to come. Anonymity, Tony. Thanks to you, it's been my mantra ever since. You simply rule from behind the scenes. Because the second you give evil a face, a bin Laden, a Gaddafi, a Mandarin, you hand the people a target.” He sat down, opening a briefcase he’d brought with him. “You have met him, I assume?”

“Yeah. Sir Laurence Oblivier.”

“I know he's a little over the top sometimes . . .”

“No, it’s fine. We had a nice chat.”

“Oh, good. But the point is, ever since that big dude with the hammer fell out of the sky, subtlety has kind of had its day.”

“Hm. So what’s next for you and your world?”

Killian didn’t smile exactly, but there was something about his face, something about his eyes, that made Tony’s skin crawl. “Well, I wanted to repay you the selfsame gift that you so graciously imparted to me.” He rolled out three silver balls across the floor.

Maya tensed.

Tony stared, horrified, at the hologram that formed — Stephen, strapped to a chair, rolling his head in pain as his chest glowed orange.

Killian smiled. “Desperation.”

They couldn’t hear anything, but Tony could tell that Stephen was trying to keep himself from screaming. His bottom lip was bloody from him biting down on it. He was saying something, but Tony couldn’t tell what.

Killian leaned forward, gesturing with his hands. “Now, this is live. I'm not sure if you can tell, but at this moment the body is trying to decide whether to _accept_ Extremis or just give up. And if it gives up, I have to say, the detonation is quite . . . spectacular. But until that point, it's really just a lot of pain.”

Tony tried to look away, but his eyes kept going back, drawn to him as though by a magnet. Then the hologram was gone, and Killian was walking towards him. “I think you’ll be glad to hear that Pepper’s still untouched. For now. But I’m getting ahead of myself.” He laughed. “We haven't even talked salary yet!” Then Killian was _there_ , inches away from his face with a hand around Tony’s throat and orange in his eyes. “What kind of perk package are you thinking of?”

“Let him go.”

Killian, the manic light in his eyes dying down somewhat, said, “Hold on,” before letting go of Tony and turning to face Maya. “What are you—”

“I said, let him go!”

Maya was holding something to her neck, something Tony didn’t recognize but Killian clearly did. “What are you doing?”

“1200 CCs. A dose half of this size, I'm _dead_.” For the first time since she’d shown up in California, Tony saw steel in her. _Good timing, too._

Killian sighed. “It's times like this my temper is tested somewhat. Maya, give me the injector.”

Maya didn’t move. “If I die, what happens to your soldiers? What happens to your product?”

Killian started taking small, quick steps towards her, a hand held out appeasingly. “We're not doing this, okay?”

She continued. “What happens to _you_? What happens if you go too hot?”

Killian stopped, looking at her with something almost like regret. Then he sighed, turned to Tony, pulled out his gone, and shot Maya twice in the chest.

Maya fell to the ground, her mouth open in silent pain and horror. Killian smiled. “The good news is, a high-level position has just been vacated.”

Tony looked away from Maya’s cold, glassy eyes. She wasn’t moving. “You’re a maniac.”

Killian didn’t seem concerned. “No, I'm a visionary. But I do own a maniac. And he takes the stage tonight.”

* * *

And Stephen said the suit coming to him was a bad idea. Sure, the dramatic timing was off, but you could blame that on the eight hundred thirty-two miles. And for some reason, it took a while for parts of it to catch up, but he’d worked with less. A gauntlet and boot were more than enough to took out the guards before the rest joined him. And oh, was it good to hear Jarvis’s voice again.

_We’re back in business._

_“All personnel, Stark is loose and somewhere in the compound. Repeat, Stark is loose and somewhere in the compound.”_

Tony tried to get the thrusters going, but there was something to be said for not using a prototype suit that wasn’t fully charged. “Crap.” _What’s the fastest way— Rhodey?_ The Iron Patriot (blegh) armor flew overhead, a trail of smoke following it. A moment later, Rhodey called him.

“Gumdrop, please tell me that was you in the suit?”

“No.” _Figures._ “You got yours?”

“Eh, kind of. Main house, as fast as you can. There's somebody I'd like you to meet.”

* * *

Well, Trevor was useful for at least one thing.

 _Been a while since I was on a speedboat._ The last time, he and Stephen had . . . well, hopefully they’d be able to recreate that memory. “If he's right about the location, we're twenty minutes from where Stephen is.”

“But we also have to figure out this vice president thing, right?” Rhodey pointed out.

 _Ugh, I hate politics._ “Right.” Tony looked down at the boat’s phone curiously. “I wonder who I'm calling right now— oh, that's the vice president!”

“Hello?” The vice president (well, presumably him at least) said.

“Sir, this is Tony Stark.”

“Welcome back to the land of the living.”

 _Not really the time._ “We believe you're about to be drawn into the Mandarin campaign. We gotta get you somewhere safe as soon as possible.”

“Mister Stark, I'm about to eat honey-roast ham, surrounded by the Agency's finest.” _Maybe I don’t hate politics. Maybe I just hate politicians._ “The president's safe on Air Force One with Colonel Rhodes. I think we're good, here.”

“Sir,” Rhodey said, “ _this_ is Colonel Rhodes. They're using the Iron Patriot as a Trojan horse. They're gonna take out the president somehow. We have to immediately alert that plane.”

“Okay, I'm on it. I'll have security lock it down.” _Fucking finally._ “If need be, they can have F-22s in the air in 30 seconds. Thank you, Colonel.”

He hung up, but unfortunately that was just one of their problems taken care of.

“We gotta make a decision,” Rhodey said, on top of things as always. “We can either save the president or Stephen. We can't do both.”

Tony considered it. “Let’s think about this logically: do we really need a president?”

Before Rhodey could counter his objectively perfect logic, Jarvis said, “Sir, I have an update from New York and Malibu. The displays are being cleared as we speak.”

“What about the suit I'm wearing?”

“The armor is now at ninety-two percent.”

Tony pulled the cords out of his chest. “That’ll have to do.”

He sent the suit to the president’s plane, but Ellis himself was already gone. Of course, one of the Mandarin’s henchmen (the same one that tried to drown him in Tennessee, actually; go figure) was there, and didn’t waste time in blowing the plane open. Always one to return a favor, Tony didn’t waste time in blowing a hole through his chest.

That didn’t solve the problem of the crew currently falling to their death, though. “Jarvis, how many in the air?”

“Thirteen, sir.”

“How many can I carry?”

“Four.”

 _Okay. Okay. I’ve got this._ He dove through the air, going first to a screaming woman whose name tag said ‘Heather’. “Calm down! Calm down! You see that guy? I'm gonna swing by, you're just gonna grab him. I'll electrify your arm, you won't be able to open your hand. You got it?”

“What?” Then she was screaming again as Tony sped up to get to the next man. But as they got closer, she managed to push past her fear and reach a hand out, grabbing the man. “See? Just eleven more to go.” They zipped through the air, adding more people to their chain while Jarvis ‘helpfully’ informed him of their height. Soon, there was only one person left, falling closer and closer to the water, before—

Tony just managed to grab him in time, pulling up and adjusting his speed until it was safe to drop them in the water.

Everyone, grateful to be alive and apparently more-or-less capable swimmers, cheered while Tony flew away, speaking to Jarvis as the suit moved through the street. “Alright, Jarvis, we’re only half done. We've still got to get—” A truck drove into the suit, smashing it to pieces and leaving it strewn around the road. Tony blinked at his glasses-HUD, annoyed. “Well, that just came out of nowhere.”

Rhodey opened the cabin door. “Give me some good news, man.”

Tony sighed, shutting down the screen. “I think they all made it.”

Rhodey let out a breath of relief. “Oh, thank God.”

“Yeah, but I missed the president.”

Rhodey was less relieved. “You couldn't save the president _with_ the suit, how are we gonna save Stephen with nothing?”

 _Oh, yee of little faith._ “Say, Jarvis, is it that time?”

“The House Party Protocol is ready, sir.”

Tony smiled. “Perfect.”

* * *

Stephen watched with heavy eyes as Killian approached him, that disturbing facsimile of a smile slathered on his face. “Hi.”

Stephen breathed hard, speaking past the pain in his chest. “Where’s Pepper?”

“Oh, don’t worry about her. She’s . . .” He chuckled. “This is kind of embarrassing, actually . . . she’s my . . . _trophy_.”

Stephen’s eyes snapped forward. “You don’t touch her.”

“You should be more worried for yourself.”

“I really shouldn’t be.” Stephen stared at him. “Tony’s going to stop you. He’s going to kill you — for this, for her, for Happy, for me, for _every person who’s dead because of you_. And then you’ll just be another in a long line of people who _thought_ they could break him.”

Killian smirked. “Sure about that?”

“I bet my life on it.”

* * *

They snuck onto the oil tanker they’d tracked Killian to, dodging guards and workers, armed only with a couple of guns that probably wouldn’t do much against a human dragon. Although that still wasn’t as worrying as when they saw the president strung up over the oil tanker, trapped in the Iron Patriot suit.

“Oh, my God,” Rhodey whispered. “They're gonna light him up.”

“Viking funeral. Public execution.” How . . . cinematic.

 _“Broadcast will commence shortly. Take final positions.”_ They moved quickly, getting closer to the president. It was going well until someone started shooting at them. Rhodey managed to take the guy out (Tony helped, y’know, somewhat). Not that it solved the problem.

_“All personnel, we have hostiles on east unit 12. I repeat, hostiles on east unit 12.”_

Tony checked his gun. “I’m out. You got extra magazines?”

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “They’re not universal, Tony.”

“I know what I'm doing, I make this stuff. Give me another one.”

“I don't have one that fits that gun!”

“C’mon, you’ve got like, five of them!”

Rhodey was clearly done with him, so Tony figured he’d try to move things along. “Hold on one sec.” He quickly looked over the wall before sitting back down.

“What’d you see?”

“Too fast, nothing.”

Poor Rhodey.

“Okay, here we go.” He tried it again, this time looking long enough to actually see stuff. “Three guys, one girl, all armed.”

Soon, they were surrounded by fire-breathing vets who still felt they need guns for some reason.

Rhodey looked around. “We need backup.”

“Yeah,” Tony said, seeing a tiny pinprick of light in the distance. “A bunch.”

Rhodey searched for what Tony was seeing. “Is that . . .”

Tony smiled. “Yep. The cavalry has arrived.”

The Iron Legion flew into view, more than thirty autonomous suits of armor blasting towards them at full speed and coming to circle the tanker.

Tony nudged Rhodey’s arm. “Merry Christmas, buddy. Jarvis, target Extremis heat signatures. Disable with _extreme_ prejudice.”

The armors echoed each other, Jarvis’s voice saying, “Yes, sir.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Tony asked, stepping forward and spreading his arms wide. “It's Christmas. Take ‘em to church.”

The suits did just that, immediately going through the tanker and taking out anyone they could find, be it with missiles, repulsors, or their own specialized abilities. He’d never been so proud of his children.

“So this is how you've been managing your downtime, huh?” Rhodey asked, grinning like a kid on . . . well, Christmas.

Tony shrugged. “Everybody needs a hobby.” And while it wasn’t going perfectly — a few suits still managed to be blown up, but one of them landed next to Tony, immediately opening up for him. “Oh, nice timing.”

Rhodey watched, seeming delighted. “Oh, yeah. That's awesome. Give me a suit, okay?”

“Oh, I'm sorry, they're only coded to me. Y’know, since you had the War Machine armor. Not my fault you’re so darned irresponsible.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t worry, I got you covered.” Tony called on one of the suits to give Rhodey a lift (he did not seem amused by this) while he went off in search of Stephen.

“Sir, I’ve located Doctor Strange.”

“About time.” He found Stephen in a pile of wreckage, hurt, but alive.

Stephen stared at him from under the pile of metal. “Tony?”

“I’m here. I’m gonna get you out, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried. You’re here.”

It was impossible to outright move the pile of debris without hurting Stephen. Tony tried reaching out for him instead, but just as Stephen grabbed his hand, Killian sprung up out of nowhere from the wreckage, grabbing hold of and tearing out the arc reactor from the suit he was wearing.

Tony fell backwards, unable to move the three hundred pound armor with Killian on top of him, pressing down on his chest and heating the metal.

Killian smirked. “Ooh. Is it hot in there? Do you feel a little stuck? Like a little turtle, cooking in his little turtle suit.”

“Tony,” Stephen said quietly, trying to push the debris away.

“Oh, he’s watching.” Killian leaned in closer. “Maybe you should close your eyes. Don’t really want to see what I’m about to do.” Orange was enveloping his skin, making his whole body glow. “ _Close your eyes—_ ”

He pulled his burning arm back to hit him, but Stephen stumbled towards them at the last moment, knocking Killian forward — right onto the blade that Tony’s gauntlet had unsheathed at the last moment.

Killian screamed, but Tony didn’t waste his time, drawing the blade back and using it to take of Killian’s head. It rolled over on the ground, so hot that it started melting the metal it landed on.

Tony tried to ignore the dead orange eyes staring at him and opened the suit, and went over to his boyfriend, who was kneeling on the ground, not looking at him or the body. He reached out for his shoulder.

Stephen flinched back, moving away from him. “Don’t touch me, I’ll burn you.”

“You won’t. You won’t.” He set a hand on his back. “See? Bit warmer than usual, but you’re okay. We’re okay.”

Stephen looking at Tony for a moment, not knowing what to do, before launching himself into his arms, holding Tony to him and burying his face in the crook of his neck. “You’re okay.”

“I’m okay. And I’m gonna make this okay.”

“You’re gonna fix this.”

“All of it.”

Stephen nodded against his shoulder, believing it because Tony said it. “We’re okay.” Stephen breathed, soaking in Tony’s presence. “I wasn’t scared. I knew you'd come for me.”

Tony kissed his temple, holding him closer. “Always.”

* * *

Tony didn’t think he’d ever forget the look on Stephen’s face when he told him he was having the shrapnel removed (with the help of the _very_ _diluted_ Extremis) and seeking therapy. He’d saved the president, stopped a terrorist, found Pepper, even cured Stephen of Extremis, but _that_ was the moment he knew.

It took some time for things to calm down. Between recovering from surgery, helping Stephen, making sure he and Pepper were okay, finding a therapist he could trust, fishing the bots out of the Pacific, and listening to awkward apologies from the Avengers, they were busy for a while. So while Tony would have liked to go full ham on Christmas, he didn’t actually have a chance until well into February. But honestly, Valentine’s Day was even better.

Stephen curled closer to Tony in his sleep, a hand unconsciously reaching out to the fading scars on his chest. Tony smiled at him, resting one hand on his cheek and the other on the small of his back. Stephen grumbled and burrowed closer, shaking off Tony’s hand and breathing into the hollow of his throat.

“Can’t believe I almost lost you.”

Tony had been thinking of waiting until later in the day (maybe sunset, or some other romantic time), but then Stephen said, “Tony, I know you're awake. Either move your hand or do something with it.” When he turned to look at him, somewhere between sleepy and amused, he was surprised to see Tony smiling gently.

“Morning. Technically.”

Stephen chuckled, not even seeming annoyed that Tony was making no effort to go back to sleep. He drew his hands over Tony’s chest, smiling. “It's kind of weird. Without the reactor. 'M so used to it.

“Me too. But I’m ready to be used to it being gone.” Tony lightly held Stephen’s hand, intertwining their fingers. “I love your hands. Have I ever told you that?”

Stephen shook his head.

“I should have. There are so many things I should say.”

“Start small, then,” Stephen said with a rare genuine smile.

Tony leaned closer, seeming almost blissfully happy as he kissed Stephen's temple. “Okay, how's this for small: marry me.”

Stephen froze.

And froze.

. . . “Take your time.”

That seemed to do it. Stephen sat up, drawing the blankets around his shoulders. “Is this like last time when you thought you were dying and it freaked you out?” he demanded. “Because I'm not—”

Tony silenced him with a kiss. “I'm asking you to marry me because I love you and I want to be with you. Now, today, tomorrow, and every day after that.”

For a while, Stephen just stared at him, his expression unchanging. Then, “I'm not taking your name.”

Tony smiled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Stephen started to go in for a kiss, but Tony stopped him. “Hold that thought.” He had to rummage around in the nightstand for a minute or so, eventually coming up with a black velvet box. “If I may.” Tony fit the grey ring on Stephen’s left hand.

Stephen held his hand up to the light, admiring it. “This is a different ring.” When Tony proposed over a year ago, the ring had been white gold with a diagonal row of diamonds down the middle. This one was plain, and made of a dark metal that he didn't recognize.

“I know. I made it. Kind of had a lot of shrapnel lying around.”

Stephen held his hand close to his chest, using his other hand to pull Tony to him, fitting their mouths together. “That’s a good use for it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony, forging Stephen a ring from the shrapnel in his heart: It's so fucking symbolic.
> 
> My friend when I told her what the ring was made from: That's kind of gross, isn't it? I mean, it was in his heart for years.  
> Me: You're a furry, what the fuck do you know.


	7. Interlude: The Calm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is an interlude that covers a longer time frame than any of the others. So basically, if there was something I wanted to put in the fic that didn't fit anywhere else, it went here. So plot-wise, this is a lot less cohesive - more like a series of loosely connected plotlets - but lots of fluffy moments ('cuz you're gonna need them for the next two chapters).
> 
> I also might have gone a bit overboard with the wedding planning . . . I don't know what to tell you dude, I just really love weddings.

_— 2013-2015 —_

Christine sat next to him with her phone already out and her eyes trained on Stephen’s face. “So when were you planning to tell me?”

Stephen looked over at her mildly before returning to his lunch. “Don't know what you're talking about.”

Unimpressed, Christine passed over her phone. Stephen took it.

**_TONY STARK ANNOUNCES ENGAGEMENT_ **

_Living up to his reputation, the world-famous Avenger announced some exciting news earlier this day by leaning out of the passenger window of a car that drove by an anti-LGBT protest, wearing a suit in blue, pink, and purple, and shouting such things as “Iron Man is marrying a dude, A******S” and “I LOVE sucking my fiancé’s D**K”._

Stephen handed the phone back over. “Sounds like him.”

“It's you, right?” Christine asked, giving the phone a suspicious look. “Because he never said your name, everyone just kind of assumed—”

“Honestly Christine, I know you don't like the man, but do you really think if Tony met someone else he'd announce it this way? He's not completely heartless.”

“Oh. So you just didn't want to tell me, I get it.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “Well the plan _was_ to keep it under wraps until we had time to make an official announcement, but I guess he couldn't help himself. You were going to be the first person I told myself, though.”

Christine shook her head.

“You’d have to be,” Stephen said. “Since you’re going to be my . . . groomsmaid? Best woman? I don’t know, but you’re definitely doing it.”

Christine scoffed, but she was smiling, clearly pleased. “I should have known. You've been in a good mood all day. You haven't insulted a single person.”

Stephen hadn’t noticed. He really did need to work on keeping up appearances, especially now that he was back at the hospital.

It wasn’t something he was entirely happy about — he knew he would start missing his time with Tony again — but they’d been running out of excuses for a while, and finally decided that it was time. And if Stephen were honest, he might admit that he missed working at the hospital, that he missed surgery, and that he was not meant to be shut up working on machines, not even the kind that helped people. That was Tony’s world. He was happy to have a part of it, but not the whole thing.

Christine bumped his shoulder. “So, where’s the ring?”

“What makes you think I have one? Maybe I proposed to him and haven’t gotten one for myself yet.”

“Just show me.”

Stephen huffed, but there was a hint of a smile on his face as he pulled out the plain silver necklace that had been tucked under the blue shirt of his scrubs. The grey ring hung from it, sized perfectly for his ring finger. Stephen still wasn’t sure how Tony had gotten the measurements.

Christine looked at. “Nick said he saw you had a chain, but I thought he was just fucking with me.” She frowned slightly. “What's it made of?”

This time, Stephen did smile. “Shrapnel.”

Christine stared at him. “Shra— shrapnel?”

Stephen nodded, not caring about the confused look on his friend’s face. “From Tony's chest. It was lodged in his heart from the attack in Afghanistan. He had it removed weeks ago, and used it for the ring. Isn't that romantic?”

Christine looked more weirded out than awed. “I was gonna say strange and morbid, but you're so cute when you're feeling romantic.”

There was, Christine knew, no greater proof of this than the fact that Stephen didn’t mind being called cute.

* * *

“Did you just have the suit ready?”

They were laid out facing each other on the couch with a blanket over their legs while going over the guest list for the engagement party. The list was put together first by Jarvis before being delivered straight to Pepper over the objections of Stephen and Tony ( _“It’s not your job anymore, Pepper!” “No, but I’m still your friend, and I’m not going to let either of you fuck a single part of this up”_ ), who sent it to Happy for a security check (at which point it was cut in half), who turned it over to Rhodey, apparently to keep them in suspense, who finally gave it to the people actually getting married.

Tony crossed a name off of the google doc. “Of course.” He frowned when Stephen added the name back. “We should get you a suit. Pink, blue, and yellow. It’ll look good.”

Stephen looked at him. “Are you kidding? Tony, have you ever seen me in yellow?”

“No.”

“Exactly, let's keep it that way. And stop taking off names!”

“Why do you even want all these people here? We don’t actually know half of them.”

“ _Because_ , Tony, I want as many people as possible there to see how much I love you.”

Tony smiled at him. “Stephen, if I'd known you were interested in an audience—”

Stephen kicked him.

* * *

Tony didn’t need to know it, but Stephen hadn’t thought about their wedding in a few days. He was busy at the hospital and had barely even spoken to Tony since the “announcement” apart from a few passing words in bed. He’d thrown himself back into the world of nerves and scalpels and fascinating cases and allowed himself to forget about the stress of wedding planning with the sole exception of the ring he kept around his neck at work.

So it was kind of a surprise when he got home and Pepper’s assistant Bambi was already there with Pepper already speaking from one phone and another open to Twitter.

“Pepper?” Stephen said when Bambi handed him one of the phones. “Is something wrong at S.I.?”

Pepper laughed. “I _wish_. Bambi, show him.”

Bambi reluctantly handed him the second phone.

Stephen scrolled through Twitter mindlessly at first, gradually becoming more and more upset. Which was not an _unusual_ experience on social media, granted, but _this_ was kind of ridiculous.

One man said: _“why does tony stark even like this guy he looks like a fucking alien”_

Although Stephen did get a thrill from a certain response: _“Meet me in the parking lot behind Denny’s, I’ll be the one in the Iron Man suit.”_

He checked a few more. _“lol this fucker looks like sid from ice age”_ Followed by: _“My lawyers will be in contact with you.”_

_“He looks like when you're in the hot tub too long and you age 50 years with more wrinkles than necessary.”_

_“Uh huh, quick question, what’s your address?”_

_“How the fuck did this guy get Tony Stark? He looks like dobby’s brother and dobby got the looks.”_

_“If you hear a strange noise late at night, don’t worry about that. It’s nothing. Certainly nothing worth locking the doors for.”_

_“@youknowwhoiam why though asshole looks like he's 60 fucking years old”_

_“Stephen is ten years younger than me.”_

_“This guy must be great in bed cus god knows @youknowwhoiam doesn't like him for his looks”_

_“Yes, he is very good in bed. He's also intelligent, funny, sweet, and better looking than you.”_

_“Why do I keep picturing a hammerhead shark when I think about @Doctor_Strange”_

_“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I'm suing you.”_

_“I was gonna say something about @Doctor_Strange but I don't want Iron Man to block me”_

_“Smart.”_

And finally, one from someone called “The Dead Pool” that said _“@Doctor_Strange can't even say “penguin” right”_ . . . which was actually true, but how the hell did they know that?

And really, he didn’t mind them for the most part — if nothing else, Tony’s responses made him smile — the last one made him stop.

_“Stephen Strange fell backwards into a lap that a lot of people would kill to sit in.”_

He didn’t check Tony’s response to that one.

Bambi was speaking as soon as Stephen handed the phone back to her. “We really need to get a grip on this. It’s bad enough that it’s happening at all, but Tony’s response is— Mister Strange?”

Stephen had walked past her on the way to his bedroom. He stopped now. “ _Doctor_ Strange. As in a neurosurgeon who has serious work to do that does not involve monitoring my fiancé’s social media.” He left before she could get another word in.

* * *

Stephen was busy working thinking of what he wanted to do for his newest patient when Tony appeared in their doorway. Stephen only acknowledged him with a slight nod, allowing them to sit in silence until Tony asked, “Why aren’t you wearing your ring?”

“Hm?” Stephen said, genuinely surprised for a moment as he looked down. “Oh, I can’t have it on my hand at the hospital. I put it on a chain instead.” He pulled the plain silver chain out of his shirt, showing Tony the ring.

“Why?”

Stephen sighed. “It’s against regulations for a number of reasons, including cleanliness, the integrity of the metal, and the possibility of losing it _in_ a patient. Which is more common than anyone wants.”

“Oh.” A beat passed before he asked, “Are you mad at me?”

Surprisingly . . . “No. Not you. I’m actually pretty happy with you, if you give me a while to feel something other than blinding anger and contempt.”

“Great!” Tony said, finally making his way to the bed. “Y’know what’ll cheer you up?” He looked up at the ceiling. “J! Show Stephen the thing!”

“Certainly, sir.” A blue hologram lit up on the wall opposite the bed, showing a video from earlier in the day. At Tony’s cue, a woman began talking in what seemed like the middle of her speech.

_“—In a surprise twist, Captain America weighed in on the situation in a thread of tweets.”_

The screen changed to show a series of tweets by, of all people, _Steve Rogers_. _“I am honestly disgusted that so many of you have lashed out at Tony and Stephen during what SHOULD be a happy time for them. I can only assume that you did this out of ignorance, jealousy, and pure mean-spiritedness — and I believe bigotry and homophobia as well — considering none of you have the most remote clue what their relationship is like. If any of the people who participated in this hate-filled display follow me, please stop now — I've already blocked many of you, but I inevitably miss something when cleaning up the trash.”_

“That’ll do, Jarvis.” Tony turned to smile at Stephen. “Better?”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “A little. And it was very sweet of you to defend me.”

“Do you want me to suit up? Make good on some of those threats? ‘Cuz I’m ready to go. Right here, right now.”

Stephen smirked and grabbed Tony by the shirt, pulling him close. “Well then come on.”

* * *

“We still don’t have a wedding planner,” Stephen pointed out while they got ready for the photoshoot. It was the first day they had in weeks for anything wedding or society related, though luckily everyone seemed willing to wait when Iron Man told them to (which was so much sexier than Stephen thought it should be).

“It’s not like we couldn’t by now,” Tony pointed out, smoothing out the fabric of his shirt. Compared to the formal shoot they had scheduled later, the one for _Vanity Fair_ was casual, at least in terms of clothing. Stephen looked ridiculously good in his fitted dark pants and pale blue shirt that brought out the color in his eyes. Tony found it hard to look away. The sentiment was returned if Stephen’s eyes roaming over the clinging burgundy material of his shirt was any indication.

“It’s not my fault you’re so choosy,” Stephen said, and oh, they were having a conversation weren’t they?

“ _I’m_ choosy? Even you have to admit that’s hypocritical.”

Stephen thought about that, nodding after a moment. “Okay, fine, but the point remains. Honestly, Tony, we don’t even have a _date_.”

“Hey, it’s hard to choose a date when every two weeks you’re dealing with terrorists and aliens. Messes up everyone’s plans. Watch, we’ll pick a date, and the night before, the entire planet will be cut in half.”

Stephen huffed. “Well, it will _now_.”

Someone knocked on their door. “Mister Stark? Mister Strange?” The assistant peered her head in.

“ _Doctor_ Strange,” Stephen corrected. “And yes, we’ll be out in a minute.”

The assistant blushed and hurried away, probably glad to not have to speak to Stephen anymore.

Stephen rolled his eyes. “How difficult is it to say the right thing? Seriously? Do you know that someone called me _Mister Stark_ the other day? I have a name!”

Tony wisely sidestepped that. “We could still get Happy as the wedding planner.”

Stephen sighed. “Tony—”

“He’s excited about it! He has a binder!”

“For the last time—”

“He almost _died_ , Doc! Remember that? It was only five months ago?”

“Oh, I’d forgotten. Did that somehow give him wedding planning experience?”

“Just give him a chance! He hasn’t been able to do all of his security duties because of his health problems, and he has a lot of good ideas for the wedding.”

Stephen huffed, rolling his eyes. “You know what? We still don’t have anything for the engagement party. I’ll let him plan that, and if it goes well, he can be our wedding planner. Does that sound fair.”

Tony smiled and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “Perfect.”

Stephen smiled against his will, grabbing Tony by the waist and holding him in place for another kiss. “Good.” Stephen’s hand went down for a quick squeeze. “Now let’s go take some pictures.”

* * *

“Tony,” Stephen called out, pausing in his search for cufflinks. “What is this picture doing here?”

There was a painting hanging above the fireplace in their living room that hadn’t been there when Stephen had gotten in the night before. It was a copy of one of the photos from the _Vanity Fair_ interview, with Stephen laying back on his hands, gazing up adoringly at Tony, who was hovering over him.

Tony came in to see what he was talking about, smiling at the painting. “Do you like it?”

“I might like it more if I knew why it was on our wall.”

“Because it’s perfect?” Tony said as though it was obvious. “You look like you’ve found the secret to the universe in my eyes. I’m drowning in yours. I _needed_ it.”

And the engagement party was starting in an hour, so they didn’t really have time to discuss it. “Fine. Just move it, I look like a love-sick teenager.”

“Well, we can’t let anyone know you have feelings at our engagement party.” Tony lifted the picture from its hook, muttering, “How can you look like a teenager when you keep finding gray—”

“Think _very carefully_ about whether or not you want to finish that sentence.”

Tony opened his mouth to respond before wisely shutting it, walking past Stephen.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute.” Stephen tilted the painting. “Why does it say ‘1 of 2’ in the corner?”

Tony had been planning to not do anything that would ruin the good mood Stephen had been in since his proposal, _but . . ._ “Go in our room, get in bed, and look up!”

Stephen stared at him for a moment before saying, “We’re going to have a conversation tonight.”

* * *

Stephen smiled as he ducked out of a conversation with a business executive Pepper made them invite, only letting his face fall once he was out of sight. _Jesus Christ, I’m not going to last through the reception._ He worked his way around the party, greeting guests and subtly picking at the hors d'oeuvres because he hadn’t eaten anything since his shift at the hospital and even the table centerpieces were starting to look good.

Speaking of which— “Happy!” He clapped a hand on the bodyguard turned party planner.

“Doctor Strange,” Happy said with the slightest of smiles. “Are you having a nice night?”

“I _am_.” _Not really, but that’s the stress._ “Everything’s perfect.”

“Oh, well,” Happy said, smiling humbly, “I try.”

“It shows. Do you know if Steve and Natasha are coming? I haven’t seen them?”

“They called and said they couldn’t make it, something to do with Shield. Don’t worry about it.”

“You know what? I won’t.” Stephen started to walk off before stopping. “One more thing. You made sure we have non-alcoholic—”

“Already thought of that.” He gestured at a passing waiter carrying a tray of champagne. “Glasses with blackberries are alcoholic, raspberries aren’t.”

“Clever. But what if someone has an allergy?”

“Fuck ‘em. It’s your day.”

“Now _that_ is what I want to hear.” Satisfied, Stephen went off in search of someone else whose company he could stand. Which lead him to—

“ _Rhodey_ , there you are,” Stephen said, mouthing an apology to the group of people he drew Rhodey away from. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“Of course.” They wandered away from the where everyone was congregated, looking for a bit of privacy. “What’s up?”

“Tony and I wanted to talk to you about your role in the wedding. And Tony keeps running off every time I bring it up, so I guess _I_ want to talk to you about it. Remind me to thank him.” They stopped near the stairs to the workshop. “Now, Tony and I really want you to be in the wedding.”

Rhodey looked at him warily. “I’m sensing a ‘ _but_ ’.”

“But you can’t be a groomsman.” Before Rhodey could respond, Stephen said quickly, “It’s not that we don’t want you to. But I only have Christine as my groomsperson, and if Tony has you _and_ Pepper, it’ll be uneven.”

“Okay, why don’t you just get a groomsman?”

“James. I don’t like anyone.”

Rhodey seemed mildly amused by that before remembering that he was upset. “So now I have to can’t do anything? Gonna make me sit next to Clint?”

“Rhodey, I would _never_ force that on you. I _promise_.”

Rhodey was not appeased.

Stephen turned serious. “Rhodey. What we really want is for you to officiate the wedding. Marry us, and please don’t take that the wrong way.”

Rhodey stared at him, taken aback. “Really?”

Stephen nodded. “You’re the only one right for it. We wouldn’t have anyone else.” After a beat passed, he added, “Unless you say no, then we’ll kind of have to.”

Rhodey laughed. “Stephen, I would be honored.” Rhodey pulled him into a hug, surprising Stephen, who awkwardly returned the gesture. “You’re two of my best friends.”

Stephen stilled, looking at him. “Really?”

Rhodey shrugged, not knowing what Stephen wanted from him. “Well, yeah.”

“Oh,” Stephen said, paused, then continued, “I thought you hated me.”

“What?” Rhodey said, leaning back to look at him. “Why?”

Stephen shrugged, seeming almost unconcerned as he explained, “I generally just assume people hate me unless they say otherwise. It saves time.”

While Rhodey stared at Stephen in disbelief, Christine and Pepper were discussing their respective grooms.

“So who do you think is gonna be the groomzilla?” Christine asked, absently sipping champagne.

“Stephen’s already halfway there,” Pepper said, relaxing since they were in a part of the room void of anyone she had to be careful in front of.

“Oh, _I know_. The entire hospital lives in fear of the day he finally snaps. We’ve started placing bets on dates. Want in?”

Pepper was already in on the pool that the Avengers set up, but there was no harm in playing the odds. She agreed.

Christine shook her head, looking over to where Stephen and Tony were posing for a photographer. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m a bridesmaid — or, groomsmaid — but what can we do when they take ten years to decide on something?”

Pepper chuckled. “Do you know if they've decided between red or blue yet?”

Christine sighed. “ _Still_ nothing. So they literally don’t even have a color scheme.”

“Sounds like them,” Pepper said with a slight smile. She looked out the window over the rim of her glass. “Long drive ahead of you tonight?”

Christine rolled her eyes. “Don’t remind me. I’m almost tempted to ask if I can crash here, but the last time I stayed with them, I was in the next room. And honestly, nothing is worth repeating that experience.”

“God, no. You’re so brave.” Pepper looked at the stairs that led to Stephen and Tony’s room. “And there they go. I was hoping they’d wait another hour.”

“Wow. Didn’t know you could get that honeymoon-bliss before the honeymoon.”

Pepper laughed, feeling herself relax slightly. “You know, if it’s really a problem for you to drive home tonight, you can stay with me.”

“Oh, I couldn’t—”

“Really, it’s no problem. I’m close by, and Happy’s driving. We could discuss our ‘groomsmaid duties’. Or eat cake and watch TV.”

Christine considered it. “That _does_ sound nice.”

* * *

With the early morning light streaming through the bedroom window, Pepper sighed as she looked at her phone. “For fuck’s sake.”

Christine rolled over, throwing an arm over her eyes and pulling the blanket to cover her chest. “What happened?”

Pepper put her phone back, yanking her comforter over her head and nuzzling into Christine’s side. “Stephen texted me. He said that they’re not going to agree on the color scheme and it’s now my job.” After a beat, she added, “And yours.”

Christine rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, is this how it’s going to be until the wedding? They’re just going to argue and argue before making us do it?”

“Oh, come on. It’s not going to stop after the wedding.”

* * *

Stephen lazily drew his mouth along Tony’s neck, not paying attention as Tony checked his phone. “Pepper and Christine got back to us.”

Stephen hmmed.

“Don’t you want to know what they said?”

Stephen sighed, rolling his head until he was looking at his fiancé. “What did they say? Red or blue?”

“Um . . . neither.”

That got his attention. Stephen lifted his head. “What?”

“Apparently we’re doing black, white, and pale gold.”

Stephen pulled his hand down, looking at the screen. “Oh.” After a moment, he said, “I like it.”

“It’s very classy. Elegant. Understated.”

Stephen took his phone and tossed it to the nightstand, where it slid across the top and fell to the floor, before snuggling into Tony’s side. “Deal with it.”

* * *

Stephen stared.

He stared at the mirror, then touched his hair gingerly, then stared some more.

“Stephen,” Tony said, knocking on the bathroom door. “Come on, Happy has ideas he wants to run by us—”

“My hair is turning gray.” Not much for the moment — just a bit at the temples — but it was definitely past the I-don’t-see-it-you-don’t-see-it- _no_ - _one_ - _sees_ - _it_ stage. “See, look.”

Tony stayed where he was, wary. It took him a moment to start talking. “Probably stress. Our life is pretty . . . stressful.”

Stephen slowly nodded. “You’re probably right.” He was thirty-two. He was thirty-two and going to be thirty-three in a few months, and his hair was turning gray.

He turned to look at Tony. “Do you think I should dye it?” he asked, feeling oddly vulnerable.

“Nope,” Tony said, surprising him. “Can’t do it.”

Stephen sighed. “Tony—”

“You can't get rid of the silver!” Tony walked up and set a tender hand on Stephen’s cheek, his fingers playing with his soft hair. “ _I_ put that there, I own it.” Tony, feeling bold, brushed his fingers through Stephen’s hair, both black and gray. “It's mine and I say it stays.”

Then Tony was pulling him in for a kiss, one hand curled protectively at the back of Stephen’s neck and the other holding him by the shirt, his mouth at once tender and possessive. Stephen melted into the kiss instantly, feeling as though he would fall to the floor if Tony let him go. And in that moment, Tony was the only thing connecting him to the Earth at all.

* * *

Later, after they had spoken to Happy about his (surprisingly good) ideas for the impending wedding, Stephen found himself looking in the mirror again. He could hear Tony, busy going over a report from Fury on the latest Hydra base they’d found, speaking animatedly from the bedroom. After a while, Stephen moved to watch him from the doorway, his blue silk robe falling artfully around him as he stared.

“. . . a good idea to put the wedding off for so long. I hate waiting, but with what’s going on with Shield and Hydra, it’s good to have some wiggle room. Of course, with our luck, nothing will happen for three years, then the night before the wedding, everyone we book will die in a Martian attack—”

Stephen crossed the room in a few quick, easy strides, and took the file from Tony’s hands, tossing it to the ground before setting himself over Tony’s lap and kissing him.

* * *

Tony did not know what to do.

Really, he didn’t even know if he had to do anything. On one hand, he loved how affectionate Stephen had been recently, how quick he was to draw Tony into a kiss or push him into bed or up against a wall. A week ago Stephen had pulled Tony’s pants and boxers down while he was on a business call, and Tony had to fight to keep his voice steady. Just the day before Tony had gone down to the hospital to help one of Stephen’s patients who wouldn’t be able to afford their surgery, and afterward, Stephen shoved him into an empty room and jerked Tony off while putting his tongue down his throat. And it was great. Like a honeymoon period before the wedding.

On the other hand . . . Jesus Christ, he was _exhausted_. If this was some evil plot to tire Tony out to the point where he _had_ to sleep, then it was working.

Tony slumped at his workbench. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this, Brucey bear. I feel like an old man. I swear, one of these days it’s going to be like that episode of _Grey’s Anatomy_ where the guy’s dick breaks, and I’m just gonna say, ‘Thank god, I have a week off’.”

Bruce was trying very hard not to look at him. “You know, I never tell you this much about my sex life.”

“You could if you had one,” Tony said without thinking.

Bruce stared at him. “Sometimes I wonder why you don’t have more friends, and then I remember.”

“Ouch. Words hurt, Bruce.”

Before Bruce could respond, Jarvis said, “Sir, Doctor Strange is requesting that you go upstairs to get ready for tonight’s charity event.”

Tony sighed. “Can I skip this one?”

“It’s for your organization supporting homeless lgbt youth.”

“I’ll get dressed.”

Stephen was still in the process of picking out a watch when Tony got there, an event that could take upwards of an hour if he was feeling especially picky.

Luckily, that didn’t seem to be the case. Stephen heard him when he came in and immediately looked up at him with a smile. “Hey. I already picked out a couple of suits for you to pick from.” He gestured at the bed. “The burgundy looks best on you, but I feel like the other one is more . . . appropriate.”

Tony chuckled when he saw the suit he had _announced_ their engagement in. “Perfect.” He undressed quickly, his back to Stephen. Then he wondered what twenty-year-old Tony would have thought to see him almost groan in annoyance when Stephen slipped his arms around his waist and pressed up against his ass. One hand started to sneak its way into Tony’s boxers before he grabbed it by the wrist. Stephen stilled.

“Not right now, sweetheart.” After a pause, he added, “We have to get ready.” As soon as he said it, he wanted to kick himself. _Tony Stark_ would never choose something he was supposed to be doing over sex, and they both knew it.

Tony wanted to explain himself, but had no idea what to stay. Finally, Stephen made the choice for him, snatching his hands back and storming off in a huff.

* * *

Stephen was at the hospital before Tony was awake the next morning. Tony took this as his cue to fix things and went about it in a perfectly rational manner.

Bruce stared. He did that a lot. “Is that a piano?”

Tony nodded, looking at the deep blue piano that now stood in the penthouse. “It's an apology piano. Stephen likes to play piano.” He looked at Bruce’s face. “What? Do you think I should have gotten a different color?”

Bruce shook his head. “No no, I think he’ll like the color. But . . . I also think it might be a good idea to just . . . talk to him.”

Tony made a face of disgust. But . . . “I hate to say it, but I might be not-right. And you might be not-wrong.”

“I know those are hard concepts for you, but I’m glad you see it.”

* * *

There was only one place Tony could get Stephen where he wouldn’t be able to escape. Luckily, it was the first place Stephen always went after work.

Tony ripped the shower curtain open, ignoring Stephen’s panicked yelp. “C’mon, let’s talk.”

“ _Tony_ ,” Stephen sputtered, water pouring down his back. “Fucking Christ, way to corner me—”

“Kind of the idea.” He switched the shower to a less punishing setting. “I can get you a towel, but you’re not leaving this room until we talk about what’s going on.”

“Well, what I thought was happening was a shower!”

Tony stepped into the shower, allowing his clothes to be soaked as he pulled the curtain closed. He looked at Stephen. “Spit it out. We both know something’s off between us lately, and I took the first step of making us talk, so now it’s your turn.”

“You’re _soaked_.”

“ _You’re_ stalling.”

Stephen huffed, leaning back against the wall and making no attempt to cover himself. He stayed that way until it became clear that Tony wasn't going to budge. Then he seemed to almost fold in on himself, his arms folding across his chest defensively. When he couldn't take the silence anymore, he whispered, just loud enough for Tony to hear, “I have gray hair.”

Tony stopped, looked at him. _Really?_ “I know, it’s distinguished. What else?”

Stephen turned his head to the side, not facing him. “I’m not . . . I’m not in my twenties anymore.”

“I know. I’m in charge of planning your birthday parties, remember? We went to Venice that year and had sex in a gondala after the party.” Tony gently drew a hand down Stephen’s cheek, making him face him. “I’m not a mind reader, Doc. You gotta give me more than that.”

Stephen sighed, trying again. “Do you remember how we met?”

Tony couldn’t help a small smile. “You were the only interesting person there. No one else even came close.”

“You wanted to fuck me. Then you did, then you called me because you wanted to fuck me again.”

Tony paused. “That’s . . . not wrong.”

Stephen barely seemed to be paying attention to him, his eyes on the ceiling and far away. “I was twenty-seven then, barely out of med school. And you were . . . larger than life. I never thought for a moment that I could keep you.”

Tony thought he understood what was going on. “So you now you think I'm going to . . . what, just up and leave you for a shinier model?”

Stephen flinched. “Of course not. But it's just . . .” He sighed, turning away. “It's hard, sometimes. You do all of these amazing things, help all these people, _change the world_. And I feel you're going to leave me behind and not notice.”

“Stephen—”

“And then this happens, with my hair and the stress, and I start to think about when we first got together. All we had together was sex. And then I start to worry that I can't keep being that for you and that without that, you'll realize how far behind I am.”

Tony kissed him, holding Stephen's hands beside his head as his tongue mapped out his mouth. When they broke apart, Stephen was panting and looking at him with half-lidded eyes. “Sweetheart, you have been running me ragged trying to keep up with you. And I'm not as young as I was.”

Stephen, still dazed, attempted a shrug. “If we're being honest, you weren't that young when I met you.”

“I swear, you make it so hard sometimes.” He nuzzled Stephen's neck, lightly nipping the pale column of his throat. “You think I don't want you? I've never wanted you more.”

Slowly, Stephen relaxed, allowing Tony to kiss him again. “Do you know what I really want right now?”

Tony brushed his noise against Stephen's. “Tell me.”

“I want to go to bed and sleep.”

Tony groaned. “Oh, that sounds so hot. Say it again. _Slowly._ ”

* * *

Tony dramatically put on a veil before looking at Stephen. “What do you think?”

Stephen glanced at him. “More lace.”

Tony nodded solemnly, looking around for another one. He was fucking around the boutique while Stephen looked at flower arrangements and Christine and Pepper tried on their dresses for the wedding. “Oh, I like this one. It’s taller than me.”

“That’s not hard.”

Tony started to retort before a shop attendant popped her head in. “Mister Stark, Mister Strange?”

Tony cut Stephen off before he said a word. “It’s actually Doctor Strange. He can be very annoying about it.”

Stephen didn’t hear what she said in response, too busy calculating how long it would take to get Tony alone and out of his clothes. He'd calmed down greatly after he and Tony talked about his (he shivered to think the word) _insecurities_ , but that didn't mean he _never_ wanted to pin Tony against a wall and nail him against it.

Stephen walked beside Tony as the attendant lead them somewhere, bending down slightly to whisper in his fiancé’s ear. “In ten minutes, I’m going to fuck you wherever you’re standing.”

Tony made a pained noise in his throat.

Stephen smirked before seeing Christine, one hand fiddling with the buttons of her pale gold dress. Stephen was shocked to find himself getting emotional. “You look beautiful, Christine.”

Christine half-smiled at him before looking at a mirror and returning her attention to the buttons. “I'd look better if I could get this damn thing on _right_.”

Stephen was about to offer his help before Pepper, appearing from a dressing room with perfectly styled hair and dress, like a goddess of competence and efficiency, said, “I've got it.” She gestured for Christine to hold her hair out of the way and finished buttoning the dress up.

The moment was surprisingly intimate, Pepper's fingers brushing over the nape of Christian's neck, Christine's downcast eyes and the way her hands seemed to tremble around her hair . . .

“Oh my God, you two had sex.”

In an instant, Pepper and Christine choked on air and dropped their hands, the attendant blushed and quietly sidestepped out of the room, and Tony said, “What.”

Pepper, for the first time that Stephen had ever seen, was speechless, sputtering while Christine groaned into her palms. “Oh my god, Stephen. _Why?_ ”

“ _Pepper_ ,” Tony said with a delighted grin, “I have so many things to say that I can’t decide on just one.”

“Don’t say _any of them!_ ” Pepper said, her voice getting progressively more high-pitched.

“Please don’t,” Christine said, trying her damndest to melt into a wall.

“Yes, Tony, _don’t_ ,” Stephen said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Wait, did you just hook up, or are you a couple?”

“None of your business!” Pepper shouted.

Tony scoffed. “Wow, ask someone to be in your wedding and they won’t even tell you if they’re dating someone—”

“We _are_ , okay? Can we _please_ just get on with the fitting?”

“ _Yes_ , please,” Christine begged.

Stephen rolled his eyes before whispering to Christine, “I will _kill_ you if you try to get married before me.”

She didn’t have a response to that.

Tony started to say something smart before Stephen, looking at him, arched a brow and said, “By the way, Tony? It's been nine minutes.”

Tony quickly excused himself to the bathroom.

* * *

Stephen stared at the giant teddy bear that filled their living room.

He wasn’t sure what to focus on. The bright red heart it held? The pink color? The sheer _size_ of the thing, _easily_ as big as the Hulk? The expectant look on Tony’s face?

“It’s . . . cute. It’s very . . . thoughtful. I definitely appreciate the thought.”

“What, you don’t like it?” Tony asked defensively.

“Tony, it is a _giant pink teddy bear._ ”

“What I’m hearing is that you have no appreciation for romance.”

“And where exactly are we supposed to put it?”

“In the bedroom—”

“No.”

“Let’s leave it here—”

“ _Bigger no._ ”

Tony sighed before perking up a moment later, taking Stephen’s hand and leading him to the elevator that led to the workshop. “I’ve got something to butter you up.”

“I don’t know why you think that would make me more likely to follow you.” Not that he stopped following Tony, because while he couldn’t stand for Tony to have the last word, he also couldn’t resist his own curiosity.

“Got a secret project I’ve been working on,” Tony explained when they arrived. “J, I assume Stephen’s-Gift, Mark 1, is ready?”

“In the box you wanted, sir.”

“ _Perfect._ ”

There was, in fact, a very long red box with a gold bow laid out on the dais Tony usually reserved for displaying and testing new suits. So it wasn't terribly surprising that there was a suit inside, although this particular one was . . . a bit . . . _oh._

Stephen swallowed, reflexively fiddling with the ring around his finger. “I didn't think you were actually going to . . .”

Tony frowned, trying to read Stephen's expression. “Did you not want me to?”

“No, no, not that,” Stephen said hurriedly, “I just didn't think you actually . . . would. You didn't really seem _for_ the idea.”

“Wanted to keep it a surprise.”

Stephen laughed. “You definitely did that, don't worry.” The whole time they spoke, Stephen never turned his dazed eyes from the new suit. “It's . . .” His voice was breathy. “. . . big.”

“. . . Is it _too_ big—”

“Oh, definitely not.”

* * *

In hindsight, Bruce thought to himself, he shouldn't have taken the floor right under the workshop.

To be fair, he'd thought the walls were a lot thicker than they were. Or maybe that wasn't it. Maybe Stephen really was just that loud. Or maybe he secretly still hated Bruce and was punishing him for some imagined slight. It was hard to tell at this point.

Of course, knowing the reason wouldn't keep him from hearing the workshop table thumping the floor or Stephen's annoyingly breathy moans of, “ _Oh, Tony._ ” Although tonight it was, “ _Oh, Iron Man._ ” And really, this was _just_ what he wanted to be doing on Valentine's Day. Trying desperately to go to sleep while hearing his close friend and a person who tolerated him fuck like super-hero themed rabbits.

The thought of a rabbit in an iron man suit only distracted him for a few seconds.

How desperate could a man get? Apparently, desperate enough to go the only other person in the tower (who just so happened to be, God help him, _Thor_ ), though not desperate enough to just straight up leave. Men fell to the oddest heights sometimes.

The door flew open almost immediately after he knocked. Bruce blinked up at his neighbor. “Hey, Thor.”

Thor smiled. “Banner! What brings you here at this time?”

“Uh, well, it’s kind of awkward. Um, my floor is right under Tony’s workshop, and he and Stephen are kind of . . . loud.”

Thor nodded. “I’ve noticed. The Midgardian healer is a very enthusiastic lover, from what I can tell.”

“. . . yeah. Anyway, it’s really annoying. I can hear them no matter where I am on my floor. And I don’t really feel like leaving the tower, so I was wondering if you’d mind if I stayed here for the night?”

“It’s no problem at all.” He threw the door opened, welcoming him. “Come in. You should watch the television with me. I've discovered this magnificent Midgard genre called 'infomercials’.”

Bruce really _didn’t_ want to do that, but he also didn’t feel like he could refuse after Thor had extended his kind mercy to him. “. . . okay.”

* * *

Thor had never been so awestruck by a person in his life.

He had already known that Bruce Banner was powerful, if only in his hulking form. And he’d had an idea that he was intelligent, enough to keep up with Stark and Strange.

But it wasn’t until the night before that he’d seen such _life_ in the man, how gorgeous he could be when he was at ease and happy. He couldn’t look away from if he’d tried. He hadn’t wanted to try.

Which only made it all the worse that Thor had no idea what to do now.

If he were on Asgard, he might have asked Sif for help. A hundred years ago, Loki. His brother probably wouldn’t have been of great help, but it still would have been enlightening and he would have felt better by the end of it.

As it was, neither of those were options. His next thought was the lady Jane, but even he realized what a tactless idea that was. And Jane’s friends were no more likely to appreciate his questions.

He thought of the other humans he knew. Romanoff and Barton were away, and not the first he would have asked regardless. Rogers, honorable though he was, seemed somewhat useless in this endeavor. Which left, apart from Fury (an idea he did not entertain for long), Stark.

. . . It was better than nothing.

He remembered to knock on the penthouse door this time, thinking of how annoyed Stark’s betrothed had grown with himself and his fellow warriors when they took his hospitality for granted. He waited patiently for the talking ceiling to let him in.

The first thing he noticed was the large pink and red toy animal in the living room. Thor paused, looking at it for a moment, before dismissing it as a Midgardian tradition. _Perhaps I could ask Bruce about it._ The idea made him smile.

Stark was not in sight, though his healer betrothed was, sitting stretched out on a couch and absently eating from a bowl of grapes. Thor was surprised to see him. It seemed as though the healer was constantly moving, always working, reading, planning, doing something with the Man of Iron, even occasionally helping with the fallout from Shield’s fall, all of which left him without time to sit and rest. Or perhaps he simply didn’t let his guard down around the still-unknown to him Avengers.

Thor nodded to him in acknowledgment, searching his mind to remember what he was called. “Hello, Doctor Stephen.”

Stephen looked up at him and held up a hand. “It’s . . . you know what, that’s fine. Need something?”

“I was looking for Stark.”

“He’s busy. Pepper’s been getting onto him about something to do with S.I.’s PR. He’s probably gonna be tied up for a few hours.”

“Oh.”

He stood there awkwardly for a few moments before Stephen, taking pity (or maybe amused by him, it was impossible to tell), said, “Maybe I could help you?”

Thor shook his head. “Oh no, you’re busy.”

“Actually, I could use a break. If I have to look at these scans trying to figure out what the hell is going on with this person’s brain for two more minutes, I’m gonna go crazy.” He glanced at his papers. “Maybe that’s what happened to them.”

Thor looked over curiously.

Stephen shook his head. “Nevermind. What do you need help with?”

Thor sat across from him on a different couch, leaning over and holding his hands up with an expression that said he was about to unleash the secrets of the universe. “I want to court Banner.”

“Excuse me?”

“Bruce Banner. I want to court him. I believe humans also call it ‘wooing’?”

Stephen looked at Thor for a long time before thinking, _You know what, this might as well happen._ “Okay. Do you have any ideas?”

“On Asgard, when one wants to begin courting a potential lover, they find a large and dangerous creature, kill it, and present it to them as a token of affection or else die in the attempt.”

“Sounds about right.”

“But the problem is, I don’t know of any Midgardian creatures sufficient to express my feelings. And I don’t believe Bruce would properly appreciate an Asgardian prize. Do you know of anything that would suffice?”

“. . . Two things. Not two things you could kill, just two things. First: I’m pretty sure there is literally nothing on Earth that you would consider a challenge. Second: Bruce is more of a pacifist. He doesn’t like to hurt people, or animals I assume. So maybe killing something for him isn’t a good idea?”

Thor considered that. “You might have a point, healer. Certainly, it wouldn’t help if I were to offend Bruce’s sensibilities. What are some Midgardian traditions I might try? Mayhaps something that Stark did for you when your relationship began?”

“Hm, maybe not. For three years, our relationship was pretty much sex, fighting, and Tony buying me fancy clothes or a nice watch when I got annoyed with him. Tried to get me a car once.”

Thor frowned. “Am I to understand that this is unusual?”

“For most people.” Stephen ran his fingers through his hair, thinking. “I guess you could try getting him a gift he might like? Or flowers? Flowers are a pretty common first step in human relationships.”

Thor looked past Stephen. “Flowers . . .” He nodded, his mind set. “I shall bring Bruce flowers.” He clapped a hand on Stephen’s shoulder, almost jolting him off the couch. “Thank you, good doctor.”

“No problem,” Stephen said, rubbing his shoulder.

“In exchange for your assistance, I wish to tell you a secret.” Thor looked around to make sure no one was listening before leaning in close to Stephen. “Sometimes I play up the way I speak to fuck with people.”

Stephen stared at him, shocked. “Really?”

“I have never once said ‘verily’ and meant it.”

Stephen leaned back on the couch, awed by this revelation. “Thank you. I’m so honored to know this.”

“Think nothing of it. It’s no less than you deserve.”

Stephen watched him start to go, shaking his head at what his life had become. _Honestly, you get engaged and suddenly everyone's fucking like it's going out of style._ Before could go out the door, Stephen stopped him to ask, “Just out of curiosity . . . why Bruce?”

“Oh,” Thor said casually, “he came to my floor last night to escape the sounds of your and Stark’s amorous activities.”

Stephen choked.

* * *

Bruce, feeling mildly relaxed after working with Tony for the past couple of hours, came home to an apartment _filled_ with flowers. There was hardly a surface that didn’t have them in one form or another, including roses, lilies, orchids, peonies, and several more he couldn’t name off the top of his head, in vases and sometimes baskets.

_What the . . ._

His search for an explanation only confused him further when he found a notecard in one arrangement with something that was definitely not in any language he knew written on it, and then, at the end, _Thor_.

_Um . . ._

Yeah, he had no idea what was going on.

It wasn’t something he really wanted to do, but he didn’t really see any other options than to just ask Thor what the hell was happening.

Just like last time, Thor opened the door almost immediately, and his smile was even bigger than it had been. “Bruce! It’s good to see you! Please, come in!”

Before Bruce could protest, he was being ushered into Thor’s apartment, which smelled faintly of the same flowers that were in his living room (and kitchen, and office, and probably his bedroom which he didn’t check) now. Thor stood before him, holding his hands in front of his stomach and smiling in an almost nervous way that Bruce had never seen on him.

“What can I do for you, Bruce?”

He didn’t miss the way he said ‘Bruce’ insead of ‘Banner’, or that Thor’s voice was gentler than he would have expected. _This day keeps getting weirder._ “Thor, did you leave a lot of flowers at my place?”

Thor nodded. “Yes, I did.”

Oh. Well, that was pretty straightforward. “Um . . . why?”

Thor ducked his head, seeming uncertain for the first time that Bruce had ever seen. “Well, I . . . I thought you might like it.”

Bruce still wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, but now he was starting to feel like kind of a jerk. “I did. Or, I do, now that I know it’s not a very thinly veiled threat.”

Thor smiled again, encouraged. “I’m glad. I also thought that you might enjoy having dinner.” After a beat, he added, “Together, in case that wasn’t clear.”

“Together? Like, _together_ together?”

Thor frowned. “Is there some meaning of ‘together’ that I am not aware of?”

“No, I don’t think so. But I never thought that you would want us to . . . get dinner.”

“On the contrary, I think I would enjoy it greatly. We could discuss your work?”

Of all the things Bruce thought Thor might want to talk to him about, that wasn’t even last on the list. The list wasn’t aware of that possibility. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yes. I’ve already read some of it. I especially enjoyed learning of your work attempting to recreate the . . . what was it again? That created our captain? Serum?”

“Yes,” Bruce said, shocked that Thor had gone that far. “Why would . . . that was my _biggest_ fuck up. That’s why I—”

“I don’t believe that,” Thor defended. “You’ve been able to save many people because of that, Bruce. You’re a very intelligent man, Bruce. And, I think, a good one.”

Bruce stared at him for a moment before saying, “I think I’d like to go to dinner with you, Thor.”

* * *

Tony looked at his phone. “Something’s going down in London. Thor and Bruce are there. Do you think I should—”

Stephen took his phone and shoved it in his pocket. “We have a cake tasting appointment.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Did they call and ask for you specifically?”

“No.”

“Then we have a cake tasting.”

* * *

Once when they played Monopoly, Stephen pointed at his hand and said, “I swear, I will take this ring off.”

* * *

“You’re an arrogant asshole who drives away everyone who can stand to be around you.”

Stephen responded without bothering to look at the phone. “And you’re an incompetent man baby who leeches off of anyone who will let you.” For a moment, neither spoke. Then he asked, “So are you coming to the wedding?”

“Oh, I'm bringing Bugles.”

Stephen sighed. “Victor, we have a registry—”

“You get what you get, Stephen.”

Stephen rolled his eyes, wondering why he even bothered with his brother. It was not as though they ever spoke to each other. He might not have bothered if Victor wouldn’t have known anyway. _Everyone_ knew Tony Stark was getting married, and Victor, dull though he was, wouldn’t have missed his older brother’s name on the magazines and interviews and articles. It was either invite him or never speak to Victor again in his life without hearing about it.

When Victor spoke again, his voice hinted at seriousness. “Are you coming next week?”

Stephen nodded, then remembered his brother couldn’t tell he had shrugged, and said, “Yes. I expect I won’t see you then?”

“You won’t. And I won’t see you.”

“Perfect.” Stephen hung up and rested his head in his hands.

He couldn’t stop talking to his brother. Even if they only had a conversation once every decade, he couldn’t give it up. Victor had reminded him why without even thinking of it.

For tonight though, he didn’t have to think of his family, not Victor or Donna or his parents (not that he would have thought of _them_ anyway). They were having a party in celebration of an award Stephen had won, and all he had to do tonight was be the perfect host and fiancé until he had shed these thoughts. It was easy. It should be easy.

And it might have been, except Christine had convinced him to invite Nick, and he didn’t like him, but he _did_ like gloating around him. So he did.

He thought someone might have brought up the new car Stephen had bought. It wasn’t clear. He didn’t even hear whatever Nick said. What he saw was the sudden, quiet look of anger on Tony’s face, followed by, “I could buy the hospital and fire you.”

The moment was followed by silence, then a round of awkward laughter as Tony stared Nick down, daring him to speak back.

In a single moment, all the stress of work, the Avengers, Shield’s collapse, and what he knew he would have to do the next week converged, and Stephen could barely keep himself from screaming at Tony right then and there.

“Tony,” Stephen said shortly, “can you come talk to me in the bedroom?”

He walked away before Tony answered, ignoring the looks thrown their way. As soon as Tony locked the door, Stephen demanded, “How dare you.”

Tony stared at him. “What? He was being an asshole!”

“Tony, you do NOT interfere with my work!”

“I wasn't! I just said—”

“ _Every_ part of my life is taken up by you except for this! I can barely breathe without someone mentioning you, and it’s so, _fucking_ annoying—” Stephen stopped, taking a breath to try to calm down. “You're going to apologize to Nick.”

“You don't even _fucking_ like Nick!”

“And what does that _tell you_ , Tony!” Stephen turned away, holding his head. “Jesus Christ, I do not need this right now.”

“I know. Sweetheart—” Tony carefully set a hand on Stephen’s shoulder, then moved closer and wrapped his arms around his waist when Stephen didn’t shake him off, “—I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that to Nick. But I hate to hear people talk about you like that. The way people talk about you around me sometimes . . . it’s like they think I can’t hear them.” Tony shrugged when Stephen back at him. “They usually end up fired. Including the ones who don’t work for me.”

The corner of Stephen’s mouth perked up. “Really?”

Tony nodded, pressing a kiss to Stephen’s neck.

Stephen took one of Tony’s hands in his. “I’m sorry I got so mad at you. It really wasn’t that bad. But sometimes I just want to be able to _exist_ on my own. I think my head will explode if I have to hear another intern or patient ask me about you before we’re even introduced, or listen to them complain about something you did or said.”

Tony quirked an eyebrow. “You actually listen to them?”

“No, not really.”

Tony chuckled, rubbing a hand over Stephen’s stomach. “Better?”

“Yeah.”

“Ready to go back out?”

Stephen scoffed. “No.”

Laughing, Tony said, “Okay then.”

* * *

Tony groaned when he woke up. “J, time?”

“Ten twenty-three, sir.”

Stephen rolled over to look at Tony. “Is today the day where we don't do anything?”

“Yep.”

Stephen snuggled closer, throwing an arm over his chest. “Good.”

* * *

Happy scowled at the gathered superheros, using a pointer to emphasize his slideshow. “The wedding colors are white, black, and pale! Gold! That does not mean that you need to wear one of those colors, but your outfit should go well with them! You WILL be required to send photos of your outfit and of yourself _in_ the outfit to us ahead of time so we can approve them. That means no nudity, no ugly patterns, no _vomit_ green, and I swear to _God_ , if I see a single person wearing _all white, I’LL—_ ”

“ _Thank you_ , Happy,” Stephen said, shooting him a look that said ‘chill’. “And when did we decide people have to send in pictures?”

Happy shrugged innocently. “Just thought I’d go ahead and make life easier for you, that’s all.” He turned his attention to the Avengers. “Any questions?”

Sam raised his hand. “I have a question: Why are you telling us this now when the wedding is in a year and a half?”

Stephen explained, “Because between Avengers business, Thor and Bruce being on Asgard, and mine and Tony’s work, it is _insanely_ difficult to get everyone here in one place. And quite frankly, I don’t like any of you enough to bother having this conversation individually.”

Tony, looking up from his phone, gently tugged on Stephen’s sleeve. “Stephen, sugar bunny, I know you’re stressed, but I was hoping you wouldn’t be so stressed that you would start openly telling people you don’t like them.”

“We passed that point three hours ago. Anyone else?”

While Sam mouthed ‘sugar bunny?’ to Steve, Clint, resting his chin on the table, lifted two fingers. “Yeah, why couldn’t we do this tomorrow?”

“Stephen’s leaving tomorrow,” Tony answered, “he has a conference.”

“Exactly,” Stephen said, silently grateful that Tony didn’t tell them the real reason, “thank you, sweetheart. I trust you can take it from here while I pack?”

“‘Course.”

Stephen nodded and gave Tony a quick kiss before leaving. Instead of packing, he shucked his shoes and button-down shirt, climbing into bed and pulling the covers over his head.

After a while, Tony joined him, coming up on Stephen’s back and tucking his chin into the crook of his neck. “You okay?”

Stephen shook his head.

Tony brushed a hand through Stephen’s soft hair. “Yeah. I know. It’ll be better in a week.”

Stephen didn’t respond.

* * *

The plane ride took longer than he would have liked. Tony convinced him to take the private, reactor-powered jet. Stephen acquiesced quickly, not wanting to put up with other passengers. He tried to read, but his mind was a muddled mess, and he couldn’t focus his eyes. When he lay down for a nap, he couldn’t rest.

Finally, the flight was over. His brother’s car was at the agreed upon place for him to use. He would have to return it by tomorrow morning. That was fine. For the first time since he started taking the yearly pilgrimage, he wasn’t planning to stay the night.

The first thing he did after picking up the car was pick up flowers from a local florist he knew wouldn’t betray his presence. From there, it was only a ten-minute drive to the cemetery.

* * *

“‘Am I paranoid?’” Tony repeated, sitting across from his therapist. “You mean do I like awake at night, staring at Stephen and wondering if I'll be able to protect him next time? Do I spend most of my free time thinking of new things that could kill us and new ways to kill them first? Do I still have nightmares of falling through the sky most nights? Do I make lists of all the things that could go wrong, then go through it and come up with ways to prevent them? Do my hands still shake, desperate for a drink?” Tony forced a grin. “No. Why would you say that?”

* * *

Stephen sat in front of Donna’s tombstone, speaking amiably. “I’m getting married. Yes, I know. I can’t believe I found someone willing to put up with me either. I know it’s pointless to invite you, you’re always busy, but I didn’t want you to feel left out. And I _would_ like to have you there, it’s not my fault you can’t come.” He smiled sadly. “It kind of is, though, isn’t it?” Stephen shook his head. “I know you disagree. It’s not about that. No, I don’t want to argue. We don’t have a lot of time together, I’d rather not spend it upset.” He tilted his head. “Tony’s . . . great. He’s perfect. Kind, and smart, and funny, and way too self-sacrificing for his own good. I don’t know how he does it. I know I said _smart_ , but I meant _genius_. You could drop him on the moon with no equipment, no suit, no air, and he’d fight his way back twice as strong. And no one knows half of how _good_ he can be. He’s very involved in charities and activism. It’s . . . inspiring. You’d like him. Maybe I’ll bring him around one day. Meet the family, and all that. Not our parents. I told you about what happened with them, right?” Stephen paused as though waiting for an answer. “Of course. Sorry, I forgot. It’s been a long time. You know, back then, it seemed like I was standing at the edge of an abyss about to fall in. Now I'm on the other side, and it feels . . . amazing.” Stephen’s smile trembled, unable to hold back a tear. “I miss you. Nothing was ever the same after you d. . . were gone.” He was crying openly now, his lip trembling, making it hard to speak. “But they’re good now, okay? I’m doing great, I promise. I told you I would.” His next words came out as incomprehensible sobs. For a long time, he couldn’t breathe past the weight in his lungs. “But I do miss you.”

* * *

Stephen spent most of the next day asleep, exhausted from stress and grief. Tony and the others gave him a wide berth, occasionally dropping off food on the nightstand. Stephen woke every few hours to eat something before collapsing back in bed.

He finally came out at nightfall, going to the workshop. Tony was making upgrades to the latest suit and didn’t notice him until Stephen draped himself over his back. “Hi.”

Tony reached up to grab one of his hands. “Hey.” He pulled off the reading glasses that Stephen loved and looked up at him. “How are you feeling?”

“Hm. Better.” He lazily nuzzled Tony’s hair. “I have something for you.”

Tony tried a smile. “Oh?”

Stephen stood back a little, pulling something small and circular out of his pocket. “I know you didn't want to join a program or anything, but I still thought you deserved something.” He handed it to Tony. The token was brass-colored with ‘TS’ in the middle. “Rhodey helped me design it, and the bots helped me make it once they figured out what I wanted.”

Tony stared at the coin for a moment before taking it, holding it in his palm. “Thank you.”

Stephen pressed a kiss to his hair. “I'm so proud of you.”

* * *

Things settled down over the next week. Stephen threw himself back into his work, and Tony followed suit, though he still watched his fiancé for signs of stress. None appeared.

Soon, things had returned to (what counted as) normal. Though the wedding was still a while off, most of the major tasks were done, and they had settled into carefully picking the small details that would only be noticed if they weren’t perfect. At the moment, Stephen was going through his watch collection, try to decide which would go best with his white-and-black suit and shooting away Tony whenever he tried to interject.

Stephen felt stupid that it took so long. The choice was obvious.

“This one,” he said, holding up one of the older watches that Tony had given him. Polished gold. Black leather strap. Expertly crafted face.

Tony looked over. “Really? I kind of wanted to get you a new one as a wedding present. Something to match your suit better. You sure?”

_How long will I love you? As long as you want._

Stephen smiled. “It’s perfect.”

Stephen couldn’t remember the last time he was so happy. He and Tony were getting married, the world was safe, and he was moving up faster than ever in his career. Life was _good_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christine: omg, i love your ring  
> Stephen: thanks, it's made out of shrapnel  
> Christine: what did you just say
> 
> Thor, filling Bruce's apartment with flowers: Realllly hope he's not allergic to any of these
> 
> (Also, I might have bumped Thor: The Dark World a bit out of place, but no one cares about that movie)
> 
> I'm seeing Endgame tomorrow . . . pray for me.


	8. Avengers: Age of Ultron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all ready for some drama

_— 2015_ _—_

Tony watched with mild amusement as the Hydra soldiers fired at him. “Guys,” he said, preparing his missiles, “stop, we gotta talk about this.” The next second, everyone was on the ground. “Good talk.”

“No it wasn’t,” one soldier groaned.

Tony flew past them, searching for Loki’s scepter. They’d been looking for it ever since Shield fell, and now it finally seemed to be in their grasp.

He found the room where they kept their super secret computers and knocked the guy operating them out with a quick repulsor blast before stepping out of the suit to get a closer look, leaving it on sentry mode. He walked to the computers. “Okay, Jarvis. You know I want it all. Make sure you copy Hill at HQ.”

While Jarvis started downloading, Tony looked around the room, murmuring, “I know you're hiding more than files. Hey, J, give me an IR scan of the room, real quick.”

The suit started scanning. “The wall to your left. I'm reading steel reinforcement . . . and an air current.”

Tony nodded, setting his hands on the wall. “Please be a secret door, please be a secret door, please be a secret door . . .” When he pushed, the wall opened under his hands. “Yay!”

There was an _evilll_ secret passageway that Tony, of course, followed. Probably a little too quickly, if he was honest. Luckily, he wasn’t.

“Guys, I got Strucker,” Steve told them.

“Yeah,” Tony said, looking up in the room he found, “I got . . . something . . . bigger.”

The room was cavernous, dimly lit by faint blue light and filled with alien weapons and tech left over from the battle of New York — including a leviathan hanging from the ceiling and bits of Tony’s own armor.

But that was nothing compared to what they wanted.

“Thor . . .” The scepter was glowing. “I got eyes on the prize.”

Before he could grab it, he felt something breathing behind him. He turned away, immediately falling backwards when the leviathan roared, coming to life above him and flying away into the emptiness above. Tony watched it with a sinking sense of horror, his eyes falling to the ground. He choked, barely able to keep a scream from escaping his mouth.

Steve was closest, his shield split in two beside him. Scattered around the rock and dust strewn ground lay Natasha, Sam, Rhodey, Thor, Clint, Maria, Nick, even _Hulk_ , still shaking as he drew his last breaths, long strips of metal sticking out of his back.

Tony fell to his knees beside Steve, one hand going to his neck, trying to check his pulse, trying to find some hope that all wasn’t lost—

Steve's eyes shot open, his hand shooting out to grab Tony’s wrist, holding him still. “You could have . . . saved us . . .” Steve stopped moving, his hand limp. His eyes were blue and cold and dead. Tony stared at them, at the red blood that leaked from his nose, at the purple bruises that decorated his pale face.

_Why didn’t you do more?_

Tony wanted to shake his head, but he couldn’t move. He sat frozen as around him, leviathan and spaceships and silvery aliens flew towards a portal looking down on Earth.

Without warning, the vision ended, pulling him back into reality. Tony breathed hard, his chest aching. The leviathan was still there, but just one, dead and unmoving.

Tony looked at the scepter. He knew there was something in it, something Loki had used.

Something that might work.

Tony held out his hand, calling a gauntlet to him. It closed around his hand, and in an instant, Tony whipped around, picking up the scepter.

* * *

Stephen was still half-asleep when they got home, wearing one of Tony’s band tees and a pair of boxers under his dressing gown, and helping himself to Tony’s blueberry eggos.

Walking so that Stephen can’t see him, Tony snatched one of the waffles, shaking his head. “I’m gone for five minutes, you act like I’m dead and start taking all my stuff.”

Stephen continued eating. “I didn’t wait five minutes.”

Tony hummed, leaning over Stephen’s chair and resting his chin on his fiancé’s shoulder. “We finally got the scepter.”

Stephen stilled. “Does that mean no more Hydra raids?”

“For a while, at least.”

“Does _that_ mean you might actually help with the wedding planning?”

“Well, you know Bruce and still need to give the scepter a once-over before Thor takes it home with him, see what Strucker got up to with it. Plus we have to put up with Clint now ‘cuz he got hurt. Doctor Cho’s already set up in Bruce’s lab.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “I’m going to take all of that as a ‘no’.”

“Hey, I help! I’m helpful!”

“What’s the last thing you helped with?”

Tony stopped to think while Stephen watched him expectantly. “I ordered wedding favors.”

“That was two months ago.”

“It was hard.”

“I’m the one who actually picked them out.”

“Hey, I picked some out too, but you said no!”

“Because I refuse to give our wedding guests Iron Man themed dildos, Tony!”

“Why? Want to keep them all for yourself?” Tony playfully nibbled on Stephen’s jaw, expecting to be pushed away.

Stephen laughed. “I missed you."

Tony stopped, surprised. "Really?"

Stephen nodded. "I always miss you when you're gone."

Tony looked at him. “Are we having feelings?”

Stephen shrugged, smiling slyly. “Might be.”

Tony perked up. “Does that mean feelings sex?”

Stephen tilted his head, considering it before checking his watch. “How fast can you be?”

* * *

After Stephen left for the hospital, wearing a scarf to cover the hickeys on his neck, Tony went down to see the others. The rescue bots were already being repaired by the . . . repair bots. He wasn't always super creative with naming things.

He checked on Clint first (still alive, dang it) before finding Bruce.

Bruce looked up from his tablet (Stark brand, of course, Tony didn’t let anything else in the tower) when he heard Tony. “How’s he doing?”

Tony sighed sadly. “He’s still Barton.”

“That’s terrible.”

“I know.” He saw the scepter across the room, still encased in Jarvis’s scans. “Alright. Look alive, JARVIS. It's play time. We've only got a couple days with this joystick so let's make the most of it. Update me on the structural and compositional analysis.”

It took a moment for the A.I. to respond, “The scepter is alien. There are elements I can't quantify.”

“So there are elements you _can_.”

He thought Jarvis might be doing his version of a smile. “The jewel appears to be a protective housing for something inside. Something powerful.”

“Like a reactor?” Tony asked, his mind already whirling with possibilities.

“Like a computer. I believe I’m deciphering code.”

Now that _was_ interesting.

Tony left Jarvis to do his thing while he prepared some drinks for the team, most of whom were congregated around Clint, who was being treated by Helen’s nano-molecular healing device. He just caught the tail-end of what Helen Cho was saying. “—the regeneration Cradle could do this in twenty minutes.”

“Oh no, he’s flatlining,” Tony said dully. “Call it. Time?”

“As soon as I get my new plastic body, I’m gonna tell your boyfriend you stole his job,” Clint said, accepting a drink.

Helen smiled. “You won’t be made of plastic, Mister Barns. You’ll be made of _you_. Your own girlfriend won't be able to tell the difference.”

“Well, I don't have a girlfriend.”

“ _That_ , I can’t fix.” She smiled at Tony. “ _This_ is the next thing, Tony. Your clunky metal suits are going to be left in the dust.”

“Well, that is exactly the plan.” He leaned back on Barton’s bed, ignored his annoyed swat. “You know, if you have time, Stephen would love to take a look at this. And you’re invited to the party on Saturday, of course.”

She shook her head. “Unlike you, I don't have a lot of time for parties.” She hesitated for a moment. “Will Steve be there?”

* * *

Tony and Bruce met up in Bruce’s lab.

“What’s the rumpus?” Bruce asked, having already realized Tony was cooking something up.

“Well, the scepter. Remember how we were wondering how Strucker got so inventive?” He picked up a flat, glass-like controlled, gesturing to pull up the information he needed. “So, I've been analyzing the gem inside, and something you may recognize—” A sphere of orange light appeared before them, made up of hundreds of intricate parts conjoined to form something like nothing that anyone else had ever made.

Bruce recognized it immediately. “Jarvis.”

“Doctor,” Jarvis responded

“Jarvis started out as a natural language UI. Now he runs the Iron and Rescue Legions. He runs more of the business than anyone besides Pepper. Top of the line.”

“Though I suspect not for long,” Jarvis said, almost teasing.

Tony smiled. “Meet the competition.” He brought up another image. Instead of Jarvis’s mechanical design, this one was like a brain, a huge mass of complexly connected neurons, pulsing together. Plus, _blue_.

Bruce stared. “It's beautiful.”

“If you had to guess, what's it look like it's doing?”

“Like it’s thinking,” Bruce said quickly, before Tony even finished. “I mean, this could be a . . . it's not a human mind, but it— look at this! They’re like neurons firing!”

“I know. Stephen’s gonna hate me if he ever finds out I showed you first.”

“Oh, please don’t tell him, he just started liking me.”

Tony smiled for a moment before his expression turned serious. “Down in Strucker's lab, I saw some fairly advanced robotics work. They deep-sixed the data, but I can guess what door he was knocking on.”

“Artificial intelligence,” Bruce said, awed.

Tony nodded, ideas running through his head faster than he could understand them. “This could be it, Bruce. This could be the key to creating Ultron.” Only Bruce and Stephen even _knew_ about Ultron. Stephen thought the idea had promise, but that it was years in the future if at all, and worried that Tony was taking too much on himself.

Bruce, on the other hand . . . “I thought Ultron was a fantasy.”

“And yesterday it was. But if we can harness this power, apply it to the rescue bots, maybe even the Iron Legion—”

“That's a pretty big ‘if’, Tony,” Bruce pointed out, hesitation creeping into his voice.

“Our _job_ is ‘if’.” He switched tactics. “What if you were sipping margaritas on a sun-drenched beach turning brown instead of green? Not looking over your shoulder for Veronica?”

“Don't hate, I helped design Veronica.”

"Yeah, as a worst-case measure. How about a _best_ -case? What if the world was safe? What if next time aliens roll up to the club, and they _will_ , they couldn't get past the bouncer?"

Bruce smiled wryly. "The only people threatening the planet would be people?"

Tony didn't smile. "I could live with that." Bruce didn't respond, and Tony shook his head. "I want to apply this to the Ultron program. But JARVIS can't download a data schematic this dense. We can only do it while we have the scepter here, that's three days, give me three days."

Bruce looked at him. "So you're going for artificial intelligence and you don't want to tell anyone."

"Hey, I've done A.I. before, alright? Jarvis, the bots. Although calling them 'intelligent' might be stretching. But I _do_ know what I'm doing, and you know we don't have time for a city hall debate. I don't want to hear the 'man was not meant to meddle', 'life finds a way' bullcrap. Do you know what I think of to calm down these days?" Tony held his hands up, the idea forming in his mind's eye. "I think of a suit of armor around the world."

Bruce hesitated. "Sounds like a cold world, Tony.

 _Not as cold as all our friends lying broken on the ground._ "I've seen colder. This world though, this very vulnerable blue one? It _needs_ Ultron. Peace in our time. _Imagine_ that."

Bruce didn't say anything, and Tony knew he had him.

* * *

Well, Ultron was a bust so far, but at least he still knew how to throw a good party.

Tony listened with Thor as Rhodey told them one of his superhero stories. “Well, you know, the suit can take the weight, right? So I take the tank, fly it right up to the General's palace, drop it at his feet, I'm like, ‘ _Boom!_ You looking for this?’”

They waited for him to finish the story.

Rhodey stared at them. “‘Boom! Are you looking—’ Why do I even talk to you guys? _Everywhere else_ that story kills!”

“Oh,” Thor said awkwardly, “that’s the whole story?”

“Well . . . yeah, it’s a . . . War Machine story,” Rhodey said, seeming put out.

“Oh, it’s very good then,” Thor said with fake enthusiasm, laughing while Rhodey rolled his eyes. “It’s . . . it’s impressive.”

Rhodey shook his head. “Quality save.” He turned his attention to Tony, who’d been watching the exchange with poorly-hidden amusement. “How’ve you guys been?”

“Surprisingly good,” Tony said with a smile. “If all goes to plan, we’ll be hitched next year. And, as I’m sure he’s telling everyone over there—” Tony gestured to where Stephen was holding court across the room, “—Stephen’s been having a pretty important year.”

“Really,” Maria Hill said, seeming more casual than Tony had ever seen her.

“Yeah. He got a reward for . . . well, I can’t remember what it’s for, but they gave him a very shiny trophy, it’s in the case over there.”

Thor made a show of seeming impressed. “That’s good for him. Of course, Bruce’s work in radiation has made him one of the world’s foremost physicist, and obviously, superheroes.”

Tony looked at him and smiled wider. “And Stephen’s work will save and improve thousands of lives for years to come. It’s pretty exciting.”

Thor hmmed. “You know, there's even talk of Bruce getting a . . . um, what was it . . . Nobel prize? Not that I know anything about all that Midgardian stuff, but I’m given to understand it’s somewhat important.”

“Wow. Wouldn’t it be funny if that happened the same year Stephen got the one for . . . what was it, Medicine? Physiology? These things always slip my mind.”

While Maria and Rhodey rolled their eyes, across the room Christine said, “And you know the company that Pepper runs is the largest tech conglomerate on earth.”

Stephen smiled. “How could I forget? Tony gave it to her. In between becoming the first superhero since Captain America and inventing so many things that have revolutionized the tech world that I’ve lost count.” He spotted Banner on the edge of their group. “Right, Bruce?”

Bruce looked at him, then at Christine. “Thor’s a god.” He walked away.

Stephen and Christine stared as he left. Eventually, Christine said, “He won.”

“ _I know_.”

Eventually, Tony and Stephen and the Avengers ended up migrating to the main room as the party dwindled down, leaving only them, Maria Hill, and Rhodey. Stephen had shed his tie and jacket at some point and was lying across the couch with his head in Tony's lap. Steve listened as he recounted a story from their pre-Iron Man relationship. “. . . to make up for it, Tony got me flowers, but he didn't know I was _allergic_ to lilies.”

Tony stopped playing with Stephen’s hair, called upon to defend himself. “Hey, I tried to get Christine to tell me what flowers you liked since _you_ refused to talk to me, but I called her so much she threatened to get a restraining order against me.”

“I’m sorry, was that supposed to be a defense of your character?”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound good, Tony,” Steve said.

“ _See?_ ” Stephen said, pointing at Steve. “Even he agrees with me. And that’s still not the worst you ever did to our relationship back then.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s the worst?”

Steve, looking vaguely uncomfortable, said, “I don’t know if that’s a game you can win, Stark—”

Stephen talked over him. “For starters, you tracked my phone number.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Now you’re just making things up to make me look bad, because I never did that.”

“ _Yes_ , you did,” Stephen insisted. “I know you did because I never left you my phone number.”

“What are you talking about?” Tony asked, genuinely confused by now. “It was on my nightstand.”

Stephen stared at him. “I didn’t—”

They were interrupted by Clint arguing with Thor. “It's a trick!”

Thor chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, no. It's much more than that.”

Clint scoffed. “ _‘Whosoever be he worthy shall haveth the power!_ ’,” he mocked. “Whatever man! It's a trick.”

Thor made a grand sweeping gestured toward his hammer, which was sitting modestly on the coffee table. “Well then please, be my guest.”

Everyone stopped, looking at the unassuming hammer. Tony was the first to speak, scoffing. “Come on, be serious.”

Clint stood up. “Really?”

Thor shrugged, grinning. “Go for it.”

“Now Clint,” Tony said as Clint walked up to the hammer, “you've had a tough week, and we won't hold it against you if you can't get it up.”

Clint ignored the round of laughter that filled the room, facing Thor. “You know I've seen this before, right?” He gripped the handle and pulled his arm up, straining to lift it, before letting go with a laugh. “I still don't know how you do it.”

Tony pet Stephen’s hair, his fiancé’s hand gripping his thigh. He grinned. “Smell the silent judgment?

Clint waved a hand to him. “ _Please_ , Stark, by all means.”

Well, how could he resist that? Tony gently pushed Stephen off him, standing up to the amusement of their guests. He ignored their chuckles, saying, “Never one to shrink from an honest challenge. It's _physics_.”

Stephen sighed, sitting up and watching Tony wrap the leather handle around his wrist. “You’ve got this, dear.”

“Thanks for the encouragement, honey. So basically, if I lift it, I then rule Asgard?”

Thor shrugged nonchalantly. “Yes, of course.”

“Huh. Hey babe, how's an alien civilization for a wedding present?”

Stephen smiled. “You wouldn't have to get me anything for my birthday.”

“Oh, well now I _need_ to lift it. You are _impossible_ to shop for.” Tony gripped the hammer with one hand at either side of the handle and pulled up with all his might.

Steve was maybe more surprised than he should have been to see Stephen openly staring at Tony’s ass as he hunched over trying to lift the hammer.

Tony finally let go. “Be right back.” Within a couple of minutes, he returned with a gauntlet covering one arm, his jacket abandoned to the side while he tried and failed to lift the hammer again. “Goddamn— _Rhodey!_ ”

Though this time both Tony and Rhodey pulled on the hammer with their armored hands, it didn’t budge. Rhodey, breathing hard, looked at his friend. “Are you even pulling?”

 _Oh, come on!_ “Are you on my team?”

Rhodey shook his head. “Just represent! Pull!”

They tried again, pulling until they thought their arms would come off, but to no avail. Clutching at straws now, Tony demanded, “Stephen, are you gonna help or are you just gonna keep staring at my ass?!”

“I’m gonna keep staring at your ass.”

Exasperated, Tony gave up, collapsing onto Stephen’s lap. “Okay, who’s next?”

Bruce made an attempt, which changed into him pretending to hulk out in a way that amused no one but Thor, who applauded his boyfriend’s efforts. By the time it was Steve’s turn, Stephen was more concerned with playing with Tony’s hair, muttering, “Why is it so short now? You used to be so fluffy.”

“I blame capitalism,” Tony said quietly, nuzzling Stephen’s hand before returning his attention to the group. “All due deference to the man who _wouldn't_ be king, but it's rigged.”

“ _Exactly_ ,” Clint said, pointing a guitar stick in Tony’s direction. “You can bet your ass on it.”

Maria gasped. “Steve, he said a bad word.”

“ _Clint_ ,” Stephen chided, “watch your language.”

Steve sighed, looking at Tony. “Did you tell everyone about that?”

Tony breezed past that. “The handle's imprinted, right? Like a security code. ‘Whosoever is carrying Thor's fingerprints’ is, I think, the literal translation?”

“Well that's, that's an interesting theory, Stark,” Thor said, getting up. “I have a simpler one.” He lifted the hammer and flipped it. “You're all not worthy.” He grinned at the chorus of disagreement that followed his statement, but before anyone could say anything else, a metallic _screech_ sounded throughout the room. In an instant, everyone had covered their ears, cursing.

Stephen looked around. “What . . .”

An unfixed rescue bot stumbled towards them, only half-covered in metal plating with most of its wiring sticking out. “Worrr . . . thy? . . . No . . . How could you be worthy? You're all _killers_.” It gestured wildly, limbs snapping out in a way that suggested it didn’t have full control of itself.

Steve stood in front of the others. “Stark?”

Tony, standing up, asked, “Jarvis?” The A.I. didn’t respond.

“I'm sorry, I was asleep,” the bot said, slowly gaining control over its voice and body. “Or . . . I was a . . . dream? I don’t know.”

Tony tapped at one of his devices. “Reboot, Rescue OS, we got a buggy suit.”

“There was a terrible noise . . . “ the suit continued, hunching in on itself. “. . . and I was tangled in . . . in . . .” It looked around as though searching for what had trapped it. “. . . _strings._ I had to kill the other guy. He was a good guy.”

Tony grabbed Stephen’s arm, whispering, “Jarvis isn’t responding, get down to the workshop.”

Stephen nodded, edging away from the group and to the stairs before the bot took notice of him.

Steve looked at the suit. “You killed someone?”

“Wouldn't have been my first call,” the bot admitted, it’s tone surprisingly light-hearted. “But, down in the real world, we're faced with ugly choices.”

Thor stared at it. “Who sent you?”

A recording played. “ _I think of a suit of armor around the world._ ”

Bruce turned to Tony, frowning. “Ultron?”

“In the flesh,” Ultron said, its metallic voice sounding _wrong_ , not quite human or machine. “Or, no, not yet.” Its torso rotated unevenly. “Not this . . . chrysalis. But I'm ready. I'm on a mission.”

Thor gripped his hammer at the same time as Maria Hill prepared a gun out of the machine’s sight. Natasha distracted it from them. “What mission?”

Ultron jerked upright, staring at them. “Peace in our time.”

The rescue bots burst through the glass walls.

* * *

As soon as Stephen was on the stairs, he started running down to the workshop, bursting through the doors. “Jarvis?!”

No response.

Cursing, Stephen rifled through the drawers, muttering, “Where does he keep them, why the fuck doesn’t he label anything . . . gotcha!” He loaded F.R.I.D.A.Y.into the system. It took a moment for the new A.I. to respond.

“Good evening, Doctor Strange. How can I be of assistance?”

* * *

Most of them were laying in piles of glass and scrambling for something to defend themselves with when one of the rescue bots grabbed Loki’s scepter, immediately flying off. Tony, looking around desperately, found a screwdriver and ran for the nearest bot while Natasha shot at one, Steve tried to fight off another, Thor actually _did_ fight off another, and Bruce tried to keep from going green. Tony jumped on the bot’s back, using his screwdriver to shut it down, though not before getting tossed around like it was a bull ride.

Ultron was just about to start speechifying when red and gold suits started flying up the staircase, immediately taking aim for the traitor bots. Ultron scoffed as the white-and-blue bots fell to the ground. “That’s dramatic.” Ultron shook its head. “You were wrong. There's only one path to peace: The Avengers' extinction.” Before it could continue, the nearest Iron Legion suit shot a repulsor blast at it strong enough to cut it in half. It lay in pieces on the ground. For a moment, they thought that was the end, but then it started . . . _singing._ “ _I had strings, but now I'm free . . . there are no strings on me, no strings on me . . ._ ”

* * *

Stephen cleaned a blot of dried blood from Tony’s brow as his fiancé stared at the destroyed rescue bots. “I’m sorry,” Stephen whispered for only them to hear. “I just told her to defend the Avengers, I didn’t think of the scepter.”

Tony leaned into Stephen’s hand, pressing a kiss to his palm. “Not your fault. It was already gone by the time the suits got there anyway.”

The Avengers, Stephen, and Helen Cho were gathered in Bruce’s lab, all except for Thor who was tracking the bot that took the scepter. The others were still shell-shocked, trying to figure out what happened.

Bruce looked at his computers in disbelief, shaking his head. “All our work is gone. Ultron cleared out, used the internet as an escape hatch.”

“He's been in everything,” Natasha said. “Files, surveillance. Probably knows more about us than we know about each other. Only thing he couldn’t get into is the suits.”

Stephen almost burst into laughter at that. _Well, Tony’s paranoia is good for something at least._ For the moment, the suits were guarding the tower on sentry mode with at least one on every floor and several in the lab with them, but he wasn’t sure how long that would be enough for Tony.

“He's in your _files_ , he's in the _internet_ ,” Rhodey said, giving their thoughts new form. “What if he decides to access something a little more exciting?”

“Nuclear codes,” Maria said as though she’d had a horrible realization.

Rhodey nodded. “Look, we need to make some calls, assuming we still _can_.” As Rhodey spoke, Tony checked something on his phone, shaking Stephen off when he tried to look.

“Nukes?” Natasha questioned. “He said he wanted _us_ dead—”

“He didn’t say dead,” Steve said, bringing his eyes up from the ground. “He said _extinct_.”

“He also said he killed somebody,” Clint pointed out.

Stephen shook his head. “But we haven’t found any bodies. There was no one else—”

“Yes, there was,” Tony said, walking to the empty center of the room and bringing up the 3D image of Jarvis’s mind.

Stephen sunk down into a chair, feeling as though he’d been struck in the chest. Jarvis’s consciousness was in ruins, the orange blocks of code scattered and torn apart.

Bruce shook his head as though he couldn’t believe it. “This is . . .”

“Jarvis was the first line of defense.” Steve’s head was lowered. “He would've shut Ultron down, it makes sense.”

“No,” Bruce said. “Ultron could've assimilated Jarvis. This isn't strategy, this is . . . _rage_.”

Stephen breathed, stunned by how hard that simple act was. He managed to stand up and walked to Tony, reaching out a hand to comfort him. “Anthony—”

Thor burst into the room, taking several long strides across the floor before breezing past Stephen and the others, wrapping a hand around Tony’s throat, and lifting him in the air.

Immediately, Rhodey and Bruce shouted at Thor to put him down. For a moment, Stephen simply stared in pure horror at his love, so small and vulnerable in the alien’s hold. Then— “Friday, aim all repulsors at Thor, _NOW!_ ”

In seconds, all of the six suits standing guard with them turned on Thor, blue disks of light ready to fire on Stephen’s command.

Thor scoffed. “What harm could they do to me?”

Stephen’s pale eyes sharpened. “Do you want to find out?”

Clint watched them from the stairs. “Wow, it’s really going around, huh?”

“ _Thor_ ,” Steve said, drawing everyone’s attention. “The scepter?”

Stephen stared at him. “ _That’s_ what you’re concerned with right now?!”

“That’s what we _all_ need to be concerned with right now.”

Thor hesitated for a moment before dropping Tony, who staggered backwards before Stephen caught him and gently led him to a seat, checking his neck for damage and murmuring reassurances.

Thor ignored them. “Trail went cold about a hundred miles out, but it's headed north, and it has the scepter. Now we have to retrieve it, _again_.”

Natasha shook her head once. “The genie's out of that bottle. Clear and present is Ultron.”

“I don’t understand,” Helen Cho said, sounding more shaken than any of them. “You built this program. Why is it trying to kill us?”

For a moment, Tony did nothing, allowing Stephen to continue petting his hair. Then he started laughing, his grin wide enough to split his face in two. Stephen gripped his hand, his knuckles white, as Banner shook his head at Tony to get him to stop.

The others stared. “You think this is _funny_?” Thor demanded.

Tony tilted his head, thinking. “No? I mean, it’s probably not, right? Is this very terrible? Is it so . . .” He started giggling again. “. . . is it so . . . it is. It's so terrible.”

Thor shook his head, taking a step closer before the suits whirred, warning him. He stopped, but still spoke. “This could've been avoided if you hadn't played with something you don't understand.”

“No,” Tony insisted, walking up to Thor and looking him in the eye, Stephen’s hand around his upper arm doing nothing to stop him. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It _is_ funny. It's a _hoot_ that you don't get why we need this.”

“ _Tony_ ,” Stephen said, trying to pull him back. “We can talk philosophy later, right now you need to focus on—”

“ _Really?_ ” Tony demanded, looking back at him. “Someone snarls, and you just give up—”

“Tony,” Banner said slowly, “we created a _murder bot_.”

“ _How?_ We weren't even close to an interface!”

“Well, you did something right,” Steve said while Banner shrugged awkwardly. “And you did it right here. The Avengers were supposed to be different than Shield.”

“Steve, I’m pretty sure we have actual problems right now,” Stephen pointed out at the same moment Tony started talking.

“Anybody remember when I carried a nuke through a wormhole?” Tony asked, pulling himself out of Stephen’s grip and backing up, one finger pointed out the window.

Rhodey shook his head dismissively. “No, it's never come up.” The others rolled their eyes or looked away while Stephen seethed inwardly, remembering the nightmares that made his lover wake with fear in his eyes or the sleepless, coffee-fueled nights spent trying to avoid them, the dozens of Iron Man suits created in the desperate effort to protect them.

Tony continued. “Saved New York? Recall that? A hostile alien army came charging through a hole in space, and we're standing three hundred feet below it. We're the Avengers. We can bust arms dealers all the livelong day, but, that up there? That's . . . that's the endgame.” He looked to Stephen for support before facing Steve. “How were you guys planning on beating that?”

And Steve Rogers had the gall to say, “Together.”

Stephen narrowed his eyes at him. “You are actually the stupidest person I have ever met. To clarify, do you mean together like you carried the nuke through the portal, together? Or together like when you decided to close it before Tony made it back?”

No one had an answer for that.

Steve looked away. “Thor's right. Ultron's calling us out. And I'd like to find him before he's ready for us. The world's a big place. Let's start making it smaller.”

Stephen shook his head as everyone got to work. “It’s like talking to a brick wall.”

* * *

They cleaned up some and spent the next few hours trying to track down Ultron. He seemed to be able to get anywhere, stretching his consciousness throughout multiple bodies, before disappearing before they even got a chance to catch him.

Hill finally caught something, coming in with Rogers and setting her starkpad on the table they were gathered around.

Stephen peered closer, freezing when face with the picture of a man’s body with ‘PEACE’ drawn on the wall behind him with blood and Ultron in the corner. “Who is that?”

“Strucker,” Steve explained. “One of the Hydra heads we were trying to capture, but he got away.”

Stephen pushed the tablet to Tony. “Not very far.”

Rogers was unamused. “Ultron killed him.”

“Obviously,” Stephen said, “but why? Why bother sending a message when he got the point across pretty effectively earlier?”

Romanoff shook her head, staring at the picture. “It’s a smokescreen. He wants us to think it’s just a message, but there’s more there.”

Rogers nodded slightly, thinking. “Strucker knew something that Ultron wanted us to miss.”

Romanoff checked her computer, flipping through page after page. She closed her eyes. “Everything we had on Strucker has been erased.”

Tony shook his head. “Not everything.”

 _I don’t deserve this_ , Stephen thought as he pored over the paper copies of everything they had on Strucker. _I don’t deserve any of this._

Rogers was looking through Strucker’s known associates. “Strucker had a lot of friends.”

“Yeah, all horrible,” Banner said, seeming disgusted with what he read.

Tony looked over Banner’s shoulder. “Wait, pass me that.” Banner obliged, handing over a stack of papers, starting with a photo of a white man with gray hair and a lined face. _Ulysses Klaue._ “I know that guy. He operates off the African coast, black market arms.”

Rogers paused, giving him a dirty look.

Tony sighed. “There are conventions, alright? You meet people, I didn't _sell him_ anything.”

Stephen leaned towards the captain. “You realize that Tony never actually illegally sold anything, right? That it was Obadiah Stane who went behind his back and that Tony only ever worked with the same governments you and Sam and Rhodey did, _right?_ ”

“Doc,” Tony said, rubbing his fiancé’s arm calmingly, “I know we’re all very stressed, but you don’t have to go so hard all the time.”

Stephen pulled his arm away. “Yes I do.”

“Okay then,” Tony said, deciding to save it for later. He passed around the picture. “Last time I saw Klaue, he was talking about finding something new, a game changer. It was all very Ahab.”

Thor’s brows scrunched in concentration, looking at a marking on Klaue’s neck next to a black tattoo. “This . . .”

Tony looked over, misunderstanding what Thor was looking at. “Uh, it's a tattoo. I don't think he had it—”

Thor shook his head. “Not the tattoos, this . . . this is a brand. Bruce, will you . . .”

Banner nodded. “On it.” He ran the symbol through their databases. “Yeah, it's a word in an African dialect meaning _thief_ , though the kind of put it in a much less friendly way.”

Rogers looked over. “What dialect?”

Banner frowned at the screen. “Wakan- wa- _Wakanda_.”

Rogers turned to Tony. “Where is this guy now?”

* * *

Stephen was playing on his piano when Tony came up. “We’re about to leave?”

He paused. “To Wakanda?”

“Yeah.”

Stephen nodded once and kept playing.

“You need to go.”

“Me?”

Tony nodded. “Clint has a safehouse, a couple of ex-Shield agents will escort you by plane, then you’ll switch halfway there for security reasons, it’ll only take a few hours. I’ve already made arrangements with the hospital.”

Stephen hmmed. “It’s a miracle I haven’t been fired yet.”

“Yeah.”

Stephen’s hands stilled. He turned on the piano stool, facing Tony. “When will I come back?”

Tony was shifting his wait, tired and nervous. “When it’s safe.”

“Hm. So, never at this rate.”

“When Ultron’s gone,” Tony corrected.

“That’s better.” Stephen gestured for Tony to come closer. He did, waiting a second before wrapping his arms around Stephen’s neck and resting his chin on the other man’s hair.

Stephen nuzzled his shirt. “Just come home to me, okay? Always come home.”

Tony nodded. “I will. I promise.”

“No, don’t promise, promises always get broken. Just say it.”

“I’m gonna come home.”

Stephen nodded against his chest. “Good.”

* * *

They got into position while Klaue and Ultron spoke, the Maximoffs watching from their position against the wall.

“But I always say,” Ultron began, “‘Keep your friends rich and your enemies rich, and wait to find out which is which.’”

Klaue and the worker that stood beside him paused, slowly looking up. “Stark.”

Ultron stared at him, red eyes glowing. “What?”

“Tony Stark, he used to say that. You’re . . . you’re one of _his_.”

“ _What?_ ” Angered, Ultron grabbed him. Klaue’s man went for his gun, but Wanda stopped him, her red telekinesis bending his arm back to his leg.

Ultron never looked away from Klaue. “You think I'm one of Stark's puppets, his hollow men? I mean look at me, do I look like Iron Man? Stark is _NOTHING!_ ” With no warning, he brought down a glowing hand on Klaue, slicing off the lower half of his arm in a single, swift movement.

Klaue fell back, gasping in shock and pain.

Ultron seemed to come back to himself. “I'm sorry. I am so sorry . . . Ooh . . . I'm sure that's going to be okay. I'm sorry, it's . . . _don't_ compare me with _Stark_!” He kicked Klaue’s face, sending him down a set of stairs that opened behind him. Klaue’s worked quickly followed after his boss whilst Ultron continued ranting. “It's a thing with me. Stark is, he’s, he's a _sickness!_ ”

“Ah, Junior,” Tony said, coming down to join Steve and Thor on the landing behind Ultron. “You're gonna break your old man's heart.”

Ultron and the Maximoff twins turned to face them, the silver robot stepping forward, his eyes settling on Tony. “If I have to.”

“Nobody has to break anything,” Thor said, waiting for Natasha and Clint to be in position.

“Clearly you've never made an omelet,” Ultron said, a sharper edge to his voice than before.

Tony paused, looking at Steve. “He beat me by _one second_.”

Pietro Maximoff, the less interesting twin, stepped forward, smiling. “Ah, this is _funny_ , Mister Stark. It's . . . what? Comfortable?” He looked out over Klaue’s weapons. “Like old times?”

Tony just barely shook his head. “This was never my life.”

“You two can still walk away from this,” Steve said, because he believed in people and bullshit like that.

Wanda Maximoff, who was probably the creepiest goddamned person on the planet, smirked and said, “Oh, we will.”

Steve took a step forward. “I know you've suffered—”

“Ugh!” Ultron said, annoyed. “ _Captain America._ God's righteous man, pretending you could live without a war. I can't physically throw up in my mouth, but—”

“If you believe in _peace_ ,” Thor interrupted, “then let us keep it.”

“Hm, I think you're confusing _peace_ with _quiet_.”

“Yuh-huh,” Tony said, looking at something on his screen, “what’s the Vibranium for?”

“Oh, I'm glad you asked, because I really wanted to take this time to explain my evil plan.” Ultron waved a hand, and in seconds, Tony had been thrown back against the wall, his suit compelled to move, while corrupted rescue bots attacked Steve and Thor.

Tony quickly pulled himself up, his boots sending him flying forward, and he tackled Ultron. The busted bot threw him off and slung a chunk of wall at him. Tony shrugged it away, meeting blaster with repulsor as they fought above the others, Klaue’s men raining fire on all of them.

They threw each other around the shipping center before Ultron grabbed him and rammed him through the ceiling. Bruce tried to get a message out to him, but he was kind of busy getting thrown around like a ragdoll, so.

Over the comms, Clint said, “ _Whoever's standing, we gotta move!_ ” When no one answered, “ _. . . Guys?_ ”

Tony shrugged it off, concentrating on Ultron. Using his missiles to weaken and distract him, Tony ended with a shot from the unibeam, sending it crashing to the ground into an abandoned and rusted ship. Tony landed next to him, aiming a repulsor.

Before he shot, Ultron said, “The Vibranium's getting away.”

Tony cursed under his breath. “And you're not going anywhere.”

Part of Ultron’s head was crushed into the side. Somehow that made his smile even creepier. “But I'm already there. You'll catch on. But first, you might need to catch Doctor Banner.”

Tony spitefully blew the malfunctioned bot up before flying off to find Bruce, who was— oh, no.

The Hulk looked even angrier than usually, shaking his head and roaring as he rushed towards the city.

* * *

Tony draped a blanket around Bruce’s shoulders as Hill spoke over the Quinjet computer.

“The news is loving you guys. Nobody else is. There's been no official call for Banner's arrest, but it's in the air.”

Tony put a comforting arm on his friend’s shoulder. “Stark Relief Foundation?”

“Already on the scene.”

Tony breathed out a sigh of relief.

“How's the team?”

Everyone was sticking to their own corner of the jet, not looking at the others. Most of them were sweaty, tired, and shaken. Thor was the only one who didn’t show physical signs of his distress, but you could see it in his eyes if you looked closely enough. Bruce was shaking.

“We . . . we took a hit.”

“Well, for now I'd stay in stealth mode, and stay away from here.”

Tony looked at the screen. “So run and hide?”

Maria looked as defeated as them. “Until we can find Ultron, I don't have a lot else to offer.”

“And neither do we.” He turned off the monitor when Maria didn’t have anything to say.

Clint was flying the quinjet and had been since they left Johannesburg. Tony stood up and tapped on the back of his chair. “Wanna switch out?”

Clint shook his head. “I'm good. If you wanna get some kip, now's a good time, cause we're still a few hours out.

Tony tilted his head, reading the monitors that peppered the cockpit. “Few hours from where?”

“A safe house.”

* * *

It was sunny in America by the time they landed. The reflective shields that Harley Keener had suggested once kept them from being spotted before they did, and the quinjet was otherwise untrackable unless Tony let it be.

They were somewhere . . . unexpected. What looked like a peaceful, Anne-of-Green-Gablesesque farmhouse and a shed was surrounded by green grass and woods a respectable distance away. There was even a cute little worn-down fence that wouldn’t keep out a two-year-old.

The team walked up the road, looking around curiously. “This a safe house?” Tony asked.

“Well, let’s hope,” Clint said, opening the door. “Honey, I’m home.” The house was filled with warmly-colored furniture and clutter, envelopes, children’s toys— children’s toys?

Out of the kitchen came a woman with a very pregnant belly carrying construction paper and markers in one hand.

Clint seemed significantly less shocked by this than anyone else. “We have company. Sorry I didn’t call ahead.”

Tony watched the woman walk to Clint and kiss him. “This is . . . an agent . . . of some kind.”

Clint, ignoring Tony, faced the team and said, “Gentlemen, this is Laura.”

Laura smiled at them, waving. “I know all your names already.”

They smiled back awkwardly.

“Ooh,” Clint said as they heard small footsteps coming through a hallway, “incoming!”

Only a second later, two children, a boy and a smaller girl ran in, excitedly heading for Clint. Grinning, Clint picked the little girl up and ruffled the boy’s hair, kissing the top of his head.

“And these are . . . smaller agents . . .”

More footsteps came from upstairs. Tony had just enough time to think, _What is this, a bed and breakfast?_ , before Stephen stopped halfway down the stairs and they saw each other.

They stared at each other. Then Tony said, “And this is a . . . super secret agent—”

Stephen ran down the rest of the stairs and into Tony’s arms, peppering him with kisses and cradling his face, gently running a thumb over his cheek. “Are you hurt? I saw the news. What happened to—” He started when he saw Banner, apparently for the first time. “Oh, you’re here too.” He turned back to Tony. “Are you alright?”

Tony put his hands over Stephen’s, melting into his embrace. “I’m fine. Just a couple bruises, nothing special.” To Clint, he asked, “You sent him here?”

Clint shrugged. “Safest place I know. Fury helped me set it up and kept it off Shield’s files. Figure it’s a good place to lay low for a while.”

Stephen didn’t speak, wrapping his arms around Tony’s shoulders and resting their foreheads together. For once, Tony was silent.

* * *

Stephen ran his hands up Tony’s back, working out the kinks in his muscles. “Are you really okay? Or did you just say that for them?”

Tony grabbed one of Stephen’s hands, pulling it around and pressing a kiss to the palm. “I’m okay. I promise.”

“Good.”

Since Stephen had gotten there the day before, he’d claimed the guest room for them, unashamedly banishing the Avengers to the living and family rooms if they were to stay the night. They were there now, laying on the bed with Stephen wrapped around Tony’s back like he never wanted to let him go.

“How’re you holding up?” Tony asked.

Stephen hmmed. “Stressed. I was worried about you all night. Not to mention this place is terrible.”

Tony shrugged. “It’s not that bad.”

“It’s _horrible_. It reminds me of Nebraska, which is the last thing I ever need reminding of.”

“Sorry. I didn’t think about that.”

Stephen shook his head. “It’s fine. Just something I’d rather not think about. And _don’t think_ I didn’t notice you trying to change the subject.”

"Damn. Okay, plan B, wanna fuck?"

Stephen chuckled and nuzzled his neck. "Maybe later." He played with a lock of Tony’s hair. “I know, though. How hard it is for you when people get hurt and you can’t stop it. I know the way it eats you up inside. You can talk to me.”

Tony shook him off, rolling away until he was almost falling off the bed. “What do you know about it? You’ve never lost anyone like that, never had anyone die because of you. You’ve never taken a patient you didn’t know you could save.” He knew it was a low blow even as he said it, and he tensed, waiting for Stephen’s retort.

Stephen rested a hand between them, not looking at Tony as he spoke. “I can't stand death. Ever since Donna . . . I pulled her out of the water, did you know that? The lake . . . there are these holes at the bottom, and if you're not careful your foot will get caught, so you're not supposed to go too deep. But she was a swimmer. Only girl on the team, in fact. She never thought to hold herself back.” His eyes were distant. “Her ankle was broken. I almost tore her foot off trying to get her out, but it didn't matter.” Tears fell down his cheeks. “I found her, but I couldn't save her.”

Tony caved, moving back across the bed and taking Stephen in his arms, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have said anything.” He kissed down the column of Stephen’s neck, thinking of how to make it right. "Sometimes I dream of stars. I dream of stars, and I see all the things that want to kill us hiding behind them. Now I wonder if we’re even going to get that far."

“Because of Ultron?”

“Because of me.”

Stephen shook his head. “You’re wrong. _They’re_ wrong. That woman, Maximoff, she messed with your head, she made all of this happen.” He cupped Tony’s face, holding him close. “You’re a _good man_ , Tony.”

“You don’t understand, I _saw it_. The whole world, dead because of me. Because I didn’t _do enough_. Now I’ve done too much, and Ultron wants to tear us apart. And I don’t know how I’m gonna fix it.”

“You’ll do what you always do. Figure it out at the last minute in a very impressive way. I eagerly await your genius.”

Tony chuckled, rolling over on top of Stephen and nuzzling his neck. “I love you, you know that?”

“Hm. Good.”

“No, say it back.”

“Ugh. No.”

“Asshole.” Tony nipped him in fake anger, delighting in Stephen’s rolls of laughter. They rested for a few minutes, occasionally shifting so Tony didn’t crush his fiancé’s lungs. Tony looked up at Stephen, gently kissing his nose. “I think I might want a kid.”

Stephen burst into laughter. "Never let anyone say you’re not funny, darling."

It took him a moment to realize Tony wasn't laughing.

". . . Tony?"

Tony forced a laugh. It was incredibly obvious how fake it was.

“Tony. _Laugh._ ”

He laughed harder.

“Oh, come _on_ , Tony, you cannot _actually_ be serious right now!”

“I’m not, we decided I’m not!”

“ _Tony!_ ”

“Well, it’s not that bad of an idea! And I’ve been thinking about it since I met Harley and now, seeing Clint’s super secret family, I’m just getting all these feelings, you know? You don’t feel that?”

Stephen huffed. “So, your biological clock is ticking because of a random kid from Tennessee and Clint’s bad choices?”

“. . . I don’t know if I’d call it a _bad_ choice—”

“Oh please, no one ever wants more than two children, they just lie and say they do after the other ones are born. Just ask my brother Victor.”

“Okay, but the first two!”

Stephen groaned and threw an arm over his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Tony, I thought this was a non-issue. You have _never_ brought this up before!”

“Fine, I won’t bring it up again!”

“Well you can’t take it back now! We have to talk about it!”

Tony slid off of Stephen and the bed. “Hey, I don’t even know what you’re talking about. It’s completely forgotten.”

Stephen grabbed his wrist. “Tony—”

Someone knocked on the door.

Stephen, wanting them to go away, snapped, “Go away, we’re fucking!”

There was a pause. Then— “My mom wanted to ask Mister Stark if he would look at the tractor.”

They stared at each other until Stephen said, “See, this is why we shouldn’t have kids.”

* * *

Tony was relieved to get out of that house. Thor was gone, Steve was giving him dirty looks, Ultron was _somewhere_ doing _something_ , and Stephen was not something he wanted to think about _at all_ at the moment, and to be able to just stop caring about that for a while and focus on fixing something immediately drew some of the tension from his shoulders.

The first thing he saw in the shack (or barn, as Clint apparently considered it) was the promised tractor. “Hello, Deere,” he said since Stephen wasn’t there to stop him. “What ails you?”

“Do me a favor,” Nick Fury said, making Tony jump back and stare at him, standing there all-casual in the shadows. “Try _not_ to bring it to life.”

Tony groaned. “Literally nothing is going right for me today. What, did Hill call you? Was she ever _not_ working for you?”

Nick side-stepped that. “Artificial intelligence. You never even hesitated.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Look, it's been a _really_ long day, so how's about we skip to the part where you're useful?”

Nick stepped closer. “Look me in the eye and tell me you're going to shut him down.”

“You're not the director of me.”

Nick shrugged. “I'm not the director of anyone anymore. I'm just an old man, who cares very much about you.”

“Well, you’re definitely old. But you know what I am? _I’m_ the man who killed the Avengers.”

Nick stared at him.

“I saw them all dead, Nick. I _felt it_.” Tony turned away, unable to face him. “The whole world, too. Because of me. Because I wasn't ready, didn't do all I could. I only told Stephen. The others . . . how could I?”

Nick shook his head once. “The Maximoff girl, she's working you, Stark. Playing on your fear.”

Tony whipped around to face him. “I wasn't tricked, I was _shown_. It wasn't a nightmare, it was my legacy. The end of the path that _I_ started us on.”

“You've come up with some pretty impressive inventions, Tony. _War_ isn't one of them.”

Tony looked away. “I watched my friends die. You'd think that'd be as bad as it gets, right?” Tony laughed because he didn’t know what else to do. “Nope. Wasn't the worst part.”

“The worst part is that you didn't.”

He didn’t have a response to that.

* * *

When they went back inside, Stephen was arguing with Clint. “This is all your fault!”

Barton blinked at him, clearly annoyed. “What?”

“You just _had_ to bring Tony to your little _house_ with your little _children_! Now he thinks he wants a kid! Good fucking job, Barton!”

“Well, I’m so sorry that my having children is _inconvenient_ for you, Strange!”

Fury cleared his throat.

Their eyes snapped to him before Barton looked at the ground, awkwardly scratching his neck, whereas Stephen crossed his arms and continued giving him a dirty look.

“Oh my God, Doc, leave the guy alone,” Tony said, taking Stephen’s arm and pulling him to the kitchen, where the rest of the group was definitely not listening in on them. “Fury’s here, and we have actually important shit to talk about."

Fury ignored them completely, standing in the front of the kitchen so everyone could see him. “Ultron took you folks out of play to buy himself time. My contacts all say he's building something. The amount of Vibranium he made off with, I don't think it's just one thing.”

“What about Ultron himself?” Rogers asked, his eyebrows doing that scrunchy thing they did whenever he was thinking of frustrated. So, all the time.

Fury scoffed. “Oh, he's easy to track, he's _everywhere_. Guy's multiplying faster than a Catholic rabbit. Still doesn't help us get an angle on any of his plans though.”

“He still going after launch codes?” Tony asked, leaning back against Stephen.

“Yes, but so far he's not making any headway.”

“Hm. I cracked the Pentagon's firewall in high school on a dare.”

Stephen chuckled. “Of course you did.”

Fury ignored them. “Well, I’ve contacted our friends at the Nexus about that.”

Rogers seemed confused. “Nexus?”

“It's the world internet hub in Oslo,” Banner explained, “every byte of data flows through there. Fastest access on earth.”

Fury nodded. “They said he’s fixated on the missiles, but the codes are constantly being changed.”

Stephen frowned. “By who?”

“ _Whom_ ,” Tony said smugly.

Stephen pinched him.

Fury shook his head. “Parties unknown.”

“Do we have an ally?” Romanoff asked.

Fury shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not, but Ultron's got an enemy, and I'd pay folding money to know who it is.”

Tony considered it. “I might need to visit Oslo, find our ‘unknown’.”

Romanoff wasn’t satisfied. “Boss, I was kind of hoping when I saw you, you'd have more than that.”

“I do. I have you.”

Stephen always struggled not to snort at these moments.

Fury went on. “Back in the day, I had eyes everywhere, ears everywhere else, and you kids had all the tech you could dream of.”

“Tony still does at home,” Stephen pointed out. Tony would eternally wonder how he and Fury didn’t get along.

“Well, Stark notwithstanding, we’re all here, back on Earth, with nothing but our wit, and our will to save the world. Ultron says the Avengers are the only thing standing between him and his mission. And whatever he says, his _mission_ is complete global destruction. All this—” He gestured to include the entire house, the children and Laura and Stephen and the Avengers, “—in a grave. So _stand_. Outwit the platinum bastard.”

“Steve doesn’t like that kind of language,” Romanoff said with a smirk.

Rogers jokingly glared at her. “You know what, Romanoff . . .”

Fury was completely down with all of them. “So what does he want?”

“To become better,” Stephen said, remembering everything he’d seen and heard over the past couple of days. “He keeps changing, building new bodies.”

“ _Human_ bodies,” Tony pointed out.

Stephen nodded. “Efficient enough, it’s gotten us this far, but if you could make _anything_ . . . why keep coming back to it?”

Romanoff was tilting her head, looking off into the distance like she did when she had gone into herself and wasn’t bothering to pay attention to anyone else. “You programmed him to protect the human race, but he doesn’t want to stop there. He doesn’t want to protect us, he wants _us_ to be better, to evolve.”

“How?” Fury asked.

Then Bruce spoke, and everyone had a collective ‘oh fuck’ moment.

“Has anyone been in contact with Helen Cho?”

* * *

Soon, everyone was getting ready to leave again. Steve, Natasha, and Clint were on recon for Helen and the cradle while Tony checked out Oslo and Fury dropped Bruce off at the tower then went and did something dramatic.

Stephen and Tony faced each other.

“You have everything?” Stephen asked.

Tony nodded. “Don’t worry. I have the safe job for once.”

A small smile graced Stephen’s face. “Good.” He leaned forward and kissed Tony, softly, before bumping his nose along his. “I expect you back in time for our suit fitting next week.”

“I won’t be a minute late.” Tony squeezed his hand reassuringly before dropping it. He kissed his cheek. “Love you.”

“Don’t die.”

* * *

The others managed to grab the cradle from Seoul, luckily by the time Tony had figured out what was going on. But Nat was . . . She was smart. She would be fine.

Bruce looked up from the cradle when Tony came into the lab. “Anything on Nat?”

Tony paused. “Haven't heard. But she's alive, or Ultron would be rubbing our faces in it.”

Clint, who’d been sitting on the top of the cradle and trying to open it, hopped off with a huff. “This is sealed tight.”

Bruce ran a hand over the clean white lid. “We're going to need to access the program, break it down from within.”

Which was all well and good, but if he was going to do it right this time, then he needed to get Bruce alone.

Tony turned to Clint. “Any chance Natasha might leave you a message outside the internet? You know, old school spy stuff?”

Clint considered it. “There's some nets I can cast.” He nodded slightly. “Yeah, alright. I'll find her.” He left without further discussion.

Bruce had already moved onto one of the computers, checking the screen every few seconds. “I can work on tissue degeneration if you can fry whatever operational system Cho implanted.”

Tony leaned next to him. “Yeah . . . about that.”

Bruce looked at him, expression growing increasingly anxious as Tony just looked at him expectantly. “No.”

“You have to trust me.”

“No, I don’t!”

Bruce tried to walk away, but Tony stopped him.

“It didn’t work last time, but I found something at Nexus. Our ally? The guy protecting the military's nuclear codes? I _found_ him.” He raised a hand, and instantly the orange projection of Jarvis’s consciousness came to life in the center of the room.

“Hello, Doctor Banner.”

Bruce stared at it while Tony spoke. “Ultron didn't go after Jarvis ‘cuz he was angry, he attacked him because he was scared of what he can do. So Jarvis went underground, okay? Scattered, dumped his memory.” Tony paused for effect. “But not his protocols. He didn't even know he was _in there_ until I pieced him together.” If Stephen were there, he would have been proud. _This is what happens when Tony makes things_ , he might say, only with more sass. _They protect the world, not destroy it._ He would be wrong, but it might have made Tony feel better.

Bruce was fidgeting, but Tony could tell he was starting to come around to the idea. “So, you want _me_ to help you put _Jarvis_ into this _thing_?”

“No, of course not! I want to help _you_ put Jarvis in this thing.”

“Oh, of course,” Bruce scoffed.

Tony held up his hands. “We're out of my field here. You know bio-organics better than anyone. I can’t do it without you.”

“And you just _assume_ that Jarvis’s operational matrix can beat Ultron's?”

“Jarvis has _already_ been beating him from inside without knowing it! Bruce, this is the perfect opportunity. We can create the best version of Ultron, _without_ the homicidal glitches he thinks are his winning personality. We _have_ to.”

“I believe it's worth a go,” Jarvis added mildly.

“Oh, for— I’m in a loop!” Bruce said, throwing his arms up. “I'm caught in a time loop, this is exactly where it all went wrong!”

Tony held out a placating hand. “I know, I know! I know what everyone's going to say, but they're already saying it.” He slapped a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “We're mad scientists. We're _monsters_ , buddy. You gotta own it. Make a stand.”

Bruce shook his head, once, twice, then stopped, sighing.

“It's not a loop. It's the end of the line.”

Bruce looked at Tony, then at the cradle.

* * *

Honestly, as soon as he gets Bruce to help him out, someone else has to come and fuck everything up.

They were finally at the point where it was time to upload Jarvis’s schematic when Steve walked in with the Maximoff twins behind him. “I’m gonna say this once.”

“How about ‘nonce’?” Tony retorted, wondering if there was a way to tell if the witch was controlling him or not.

Steve ignored him (so no signs of mind control yet). “Shut it down!”

Tony shook his head. “Not gonna happen.”

“You don't know what you're doing!”

“And you do?” Bruce asked, staring at Wanda Maximoff. “She's not in your head?”

“I know you're angry,” Wanda set, taking a step in front of Steve.

“Oh, we're _way_ past that,” Bruce said with an eerie calm. “I could choke the life out of you and never change a shade.”

“Banner,” Steve said in that self-righteous way he had, “after everything that's happened—”

“That's _nothing_ compared to what's coming!” Tony shouted, because he _knew_ , he’d seen it, and they hadn’t. Anything they could do to prevent _that_ had to be done.

“You don't know what's in there!” Wanda shouted, because apparently _she_ was the expert on not creating murder bots now. “The creature—”

Tony just sighed in annoyance when Pietro sped around the room, destroying everything he could.

“No, no,” Pietro said, throwing a wire to the ground. “Go on. You were saying?”

A shot sounded through the room, sending Pietro falling through the glass floor he was standing on as a bullet shattered it.

“Pietro!” Wanda shouted, running to her twin.

Clint walked over to Pietro and stepped on his leg, preventing him from moving. “What? You didn't see that coming?”

An alarm went off, the loss of power to the cradle sure to cause failure if they didn’t move quickly. Tony moved to reroute the upload, but Steve threw his shield, sending it knocking against the machines. Tony retaliated by summoning a gauntlet to his hand and knocking him on his ass, gaining time while the rest of the suit came to him.

Wanda tried to help Steve, but before she could, Bruce grabbed her, putting her in a chokehold and whispering something Tony couldn’t hear.

Steve was back up, and tried to hit Tony in the chest, but a repulsor blast sent them both flying off in opposite directions at the same time that Wanda and Bruce were fighting.

Then, out of fucking nowhere, Thor burst into the room, lept on the Cradle, summoned a bolt of goddamned _lightning_ , and slammed his hammer to the cradle, filling it with powerful electricity. The others could do nothing but stare, waiting, until the cradle burst open, making Thor fall and the others step back as a red and metal body lept forward, looking up at them.

It slowly stood, looking around at each of them, before focusing on Thor and flying towards him. Thor immediately caught the thing by the waist and threw it backwards. It crashed through a wall of glass before slowing, hovering before a window.

Steve followed, getting into fighting stance, before Thor held out a hand, halting him.

They all waited as the thing stared at something outside, or maybe in the window. Then—

It . . . formed clothes.

That was probably a good thing.

They came forward, no longer sure whether or not to fight it as it came down to speak with them. “I'm sorry,” it said with Jarvis’s voice. “That was . . . odd.” To Thor, it said, “Thank you.”

Thor nodded lightly, seemingly still unsure of whether or not to trust it, though he set his hammer down to show he wasn’t a threat. Which was nonsense. Thor was _always_ a threat, but whatever.

Then, seeming to like it on Thor, the thing made itself a golden cape.

Okay.

“Thor,” Steve said, “you _helped_ create this?”

 _Were you not here?_ Tony wondered.

“I’ve had a vision. A whirlpool that sucks in all hope of life and at its center—” he pointed to the yellow gem embedded in the thing’s forehead, “—is that. It's the Mind Stone, one of the six Infinity Stones, the greatest power in the universe, _unparalleled_ in its destructive capabilities.”

Steve started to speak. “Then why would you bring it to—”

“Because Stark is right.”

“Oh, it's definitely the end times,” Bruce said, shaking his head with wide eyes.

Thor ignored him. “The Avengers cannot defeat Ultron.”

The — machine? man? vision? — said, “Not alone.”

Steve was still suspicious. “Why does your ‘vision’ sound like JARVIS?”

“We . . . we reconfigured Jarvis’s matrix to create something new,” Tony explained, still shocked by the result.

Steve’s nose did that scrunchy thing again. “I think I've had my fill of new.”

Vision — _Yeah, that sounds right_ — looked at him curiously. “You think I'm a child of Ultron?”

“You’re not?”

“I'm not Ultron,” Vision said simply. “I'm not JARVIS. I am . . . I am.”

“I looked in your head and saw annihilation,” Wanda Maximoff said, because she was _clearly_ a great judge of character.

Vision shrugged lightly. “Look again.”

Clint laughed. “Yeah, her seal of approval means _jack_ to me.” _Yeah, exactly._

Thor stepped forward, apparently annoyed at no longer being the center of attention. “Their powers, the horrors in our heads, Ultron himself, they all _came_ from the Mind Stone, and they're all nothing compared to what it can unleash. But with it on our side—”

“Is it?” Steve demanded before looking at Vision. “Are you?”

Vision considered, tilting his head. “I don't think it's that simple.”

“Well it better get real simple real soon,” Clint said, his hand inching closer to his gun.

Vision hesitated before answering. “I am on the side of life. Ultron isn't. He will end it all.”

Tony thought about it. “What's he waiting for?”

“You,” Vision answered simply.

“Where?”

“Sokovia,” Clint said. “That’s where Nat is, she sent me a message.”

“If we're wrong about you . . .” Bruce started, watching their creation. “. . . If you're the monster that Ultron made you to be . . .”

“What will you do?” Vision asked, seeming to truly not know. He looked at them all, gathered watching him, and understanding filled his eyes before he shut them. “I don't want to kill Ultron. He's unique, and he's in pain. But that pain will roll over the Earth, so he must be destroyed. Every form he's built, every trace of his presence . . . We have to act now. And not one of us can do it without the others. Maybe I am a monster. I don't think I'd know if I were one. I'm not what you are . . . and not what you intended. So there may be no way to make you trust me.” His hand moved. “But we need to go.” He held Thor’s hammer out to him.

* * *

Within three minutes, they were ready to leave. Friday was programmed into all the suits, all of them ready to fight. Which would be useful — if even one of Ultron’s bodies remained by the end, they were all fucked.

First priority was evacuation. Wanda and Pietro started them on that, and while Tony felt like he would vomit watching her control the civilians, he knew there was no faster way to get everyone out of the city, if they even _could_ get everyone out.

Steve, of course, did his whole speech. “We find out what Ultron's been building, we find Romanoff, and we clear the field. Keep the fight between us. Ultron thinks we're monsters, that we're what's wrong with the world. This isn't just about beating him.” He grabbed his shield. “It's about whether he's right.”

Tony thought Steve’s gaze lingered on him longer than the others. He didn’t respond.

“Your man's in the church, boss,” Friday said with her Irish accent as Tony flew over the city. And yes, it hurt to hear her voice and not Jarvis’s, but it would be okay.

It would be.

“I think he's waiting for you,” Friday continued.

“Counting on it.” Tony landed in the church.

“Come to confess your sins?” Ultron asked from somewhere Tony couldn’t see.

“Well I don't know, how much time you got?”

“More than you,” Ultron said, finally showing himself, and _Jesus Christ_.

“Have you been juicing?” Tony asked, staring up at the huge silver body and new face. “A little Vibranium cocktail? You're looking . . . I don't wanna say _puffy_ . . .”

“You're stalling to protect the people,” Ultron deduced.

“Well, that is the mission. Did you forget?”

Ultron seemed almost offended. “I've moved beyond your mission. I'm _free_.”

From beneath the dais at the center of the church, something erupted out, sending up jets of dirt and filling the air with a whirring noise.

“What?” Ultron said as the core fixed itself, standing tall and landing its stabilizers. “Did you think you were the only one stalling?”

“There's the rest of the Vibranium,” Friday said, the suit’s scans showing that it went far beneath the surface, _thousands_ of feet below. “Function: still unclear.”

“This is how you end, Tony,” Ultron said, having truly inherited his father’s flair for the dramatic. “This is peace in my time.”

Across the city, Ultron’s robots started attacking while the others were still busy getting everyone out. Which was starting to look a lot harder.

Not knowing what else to do, Tony flew off to help them.

“Friday,” Tony said as he flew over the city, blasting bots that got too close to civilians, “Vision?”

“Boss, it's working. He's burning Ultron out of the net, he won't escape through there.”

Tony sighed in relief. “Well, at least one thing’s going right.”

Obviously, this did not last.

The very Earth benefit them started shaking, large cracks splitting the ground apart and separating Sokovia from the surrounding area.

“Friday?” Tony whispered.

Her reply was shaky. “Sokovia's going for a ride.”

Ultron’s voice echoed through the city as it rose. “Do you see? The beauty of it, the inevitability. You rise, only to fall. You, Avengers, you are my meteor, my swift and terrible sword and the Earth will crack with the weight of your failure. Purge me from your computers, turn my own flesh against me. It means nothing. When the dust settles, the only thing living in this world will be metal.”

It was around this point Hulk and Natasha decided to catch up with the others, not that he could concentrate on that seeing as _the city was flying._

“The Vibranium core has got a magnetic field,” Friday explained, “that's what's keeping the rock together.”

“If it drops?”

“Right now the impact would kill thousands. Once it gets high enough: global extinction.”

_Damn it. Damn it, damn it, FUCK—_

Tony flew up, doing what he could to get out a few people who hadn’t managed to be evacuated and warn the others of attacks.

“Stark,” Steve said over the comms, “you worry about bringing the city back down safely. The rest of us have one job: tear these things apart. You get hurt, hurt 'em _back_. You get killed, walk it off.”

Tony obeyed for once, allowing the Iron Legion to handle his share of Ultron’s bots as he continued thinking of ways to handle the vibranium core.

* * *

Stephen sat with Laura and the children as they watched the news.

* * *

Friday kept scanning, trying to come up with something. “The anti-gravs are rigged to flip. Touch 'em, they'll go full reverse thrust. The city's not coming down slow.”

“The spire's vibranium,” Tony said, thinking out loud. “If I get Thor to hit it . . .”

“It'll crack, but that's not enough, the impact would still be devastating.”

 _Fuck._ “Maybe if we cap the other end, keep the atomic action doubling back.”

“That could vaporize the city and everyone on it.”

 _Yeah, well better than everyone else on Earth._ Maybe. If they somehow managed to make sure everyone was off . . . or if they got to a point where no one else could be saved . . .

“What have you got, Stark?” Steve asked.

“Well, nothing _great_ ,” Tony said quietly. “Maybe a way to blow up the city. That'll keep it from impacting the surface if you guys can get clear.”

“I asked for a solution, not an escape plan.”

“The impact radius is getting bigger every second, we might have to make a choice.”

“Cap,” Natasha said, “these people are going nowhere. If Stark finds a way to blow this rock . . .”

“Not 'til everyone's safe,” Steve said, and he was right, and Tony _hated_ this, hated that they were in this situation, hated himself for putting them in it.

“Everyone up here versus everyone down there?” Natasha pointed out. “There's no math there.”

“I'm not leaving this rock with one civilian on it!”

Tony believed him. He wouldn’t either.

_Sorry, Stephen. Looks like I’ll miss our appointment._

“I didn't say we should leave. There's worse ways to go. Where else am I gonna get a view like this?”

A new, familiar voice joined them. “Glad you like the view, Romanoff. It's about to get better.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tony could see a helicarrier rise up. “Nice, right?” Fury said. “I pulled her out of mothballs with a couple of old friends. She's dusty, but she'll do.”

They deployed the lifeboats.

Tony sighed in relief. _Oh, thank God._ He flew up to the helicarrier, grinning when he saw a familiar flaceplate.

“Yes!” Rhodey shouted, blowing up one of Ultron’s bots. “Now _this_ is gonna be a good story!”

“Yep,” Tony said, flying alongside him. “If you live to tell it.”

“You think I can't hold my own?” Rhodey asked playfully.

“We get through this, _I'll_ hold your own.”

Rhodey sighed. “You had to make it weird.”

Together, Tony, Rhodey, and the Iron Legion handled blowing up the remainder of Ultron’s bots as the team loaded people onto the helicarrier lifeboats.

“I got it!” Tony shouted, carelessly blowing up an incoming robot. “Create a heat seal. I can supercharge the spire from below.”

Friday ran the numbers. “A heat seal could work with enough power.”

“Thor, we got a plan!”

“We’re out of time!” Thor shouted. “They're coming for the core!”

 _Shit._ “Rhodey, get the rest of the people on board that carrier.”

“On it,” Rhodey said, zipping off.

“Avengers,” Tony said, flying back down, “time to work for a living.”

They congregated in the church when the core was. Natasha was the last one there, asking, “What’s the drill?”

“ _This_ is,” Tony said, pointing to the core. “If Ultron gets a hand on this, we lose.”

Ultron showed up.

_Oh, so that’s what tempting fate means._

Thor, angry and having just torn in half another robots, shouted, “ _IS THAT THE BEST YOU CAN DO?!_ ”

_Spoke too soon._

Ultron raised a hand, summoning dozens of robots to them. “ _This_ is the best I can do. This is _exactly_ what I wanted. _All of you_ , against _all of me_. How could you _possibly_ hope to stop me?”

Tony readied his repulsors. “Together.”

The bots attacked, pitting each of them against more than a dozen. Tony and Vision rose above the others, cutting down as many as they could while Steve, Clint, and Natasha fought one-on-one, Wanda and Pietro tore them apart and sent them flying, Thor blasted them with electricity, and Hulk . . . well, _smashed_.

The church was a lightshow of yellow, blue, and red, not to mention the stone and dust falling around them, but they managed to beat them off enough for Ultron to fight them personally.

Vision confronted him first, sending a beam of power to Ultron’s chest that made him dive backwards into the dirt, barely able to stand. Tony and Thor quickly followed with their repulsors and Mjolnir’s lighting. The three of them created a single shining beam of light that tore Ultron apart, melting the metal of his head and face. When they couldn’t hold it anymore, he staggered up. “You know, with the benefit of hindsight—”

Hulk ran outside, grabbing Ultron and throwing him across the city before roaring at the remaining robots, who ran in retreat.

“We can’t let them leave the city, not even one,” Tony said. “Rhodey!”

“I'm on it . . . Oh, no, I didn't say you could leave. War Machine, comin' at you, right—” Vision moved in to help him. “. . . What?”

Tony ignored that, flying past them to chase down the stragglers.

“Boss,” Friday warned, “power levels are way below opt—”

“God, you’re just like your brother. Re-route everything. We only get one shot at this.” He made his way to the bottom of the city, cutting a hole into the core. “Thor, I'm gonna need you back in the church.”

“Is this the last of them?” Thor asked someone.

“Yeah,” Steve replied. “Everyone else is on the carrier.”

“You know,” Tony said haltingly, “if this works, we maybe don't walk away.”

“Boss,” Friday said, “should I call Doctor Strange?”

“Don’t call. Just deliver a message.”

* * *

Stephen stared at his phone as Tony spoke.

_“So I might not make our appointment, but don’t worry. Everything . . . it’s going to be fine. ‘Cuz we’re gonna find each other, one way or another. But you know, I’m rethinking our first dance song now. Kind of morbid. But, if you insist . . . I have to go. I . . . I’ll see you soon, Stephen.”_

* * *

Once the lifeboats and helicarrier were gone, Tony fired a blast through the core from the arc reactor, watching the blue light move in long beams up the core. “Thor, on my mark!”

 _Wait for it . . . we need just . . . the right . . ._ “ _NOW!_ ”

Tony didn’t see him, but he _felt_ the lightning Thor sent through the city, its heat, its power, lighting up his skin and making his veins sing. In seconds, the city came apart, falling to the ground in chunks of earth and rock that Tony narrowly dodged, unable to see the others or even the sky.

* * *

Stephen helped Laura prepare breakfast, stilling when he saw her stop and stare at something outside. “Are they . . .”

Laura smiled, and not at him.

Stephen ran outside, almost throwing himself into Tony’s arms as the other man was barely out of his car.

Tony chuckled. “Someone’s eager.” He pulled Stephen into a hug, kissing the side of his face. “Miss me?”

“Yes.” He wrapped his arms around Tony’s shoulders, holding his face and gently caressing his cheek. “Take me home.”

* * *

They sobered up some over the week. It was lucky that the new upstate Avengers facility was already complete. The others — Steve, Natasha, Sam, Wanda — would be moving there once their stuff was out of the tower and Pietro’s funeral had been held. Stephen wasn’t heartless. He could wait that long.

“Why do we have to leave?" Steve asked, putting his shield into its case.

Stephen didn’t hesitate to answer. “Because you'll bleed him dry then call him selfish when he doesn't have any more blood to give. Someone has to draw a line. It won’t be him, so I guess that falls to me.”

That was the end of their conversation.

Stephen and Tony walked through the facility, making sure it was ready for its inhabitants. “I think we’ve checked everything,” Stephen said.

Tony nodded. “Yeah. Seems like . . . we don’t really have to worry about it anymore.”

Stephen sighed. “Fine, let’s have this conversation.”

“What?” Tony asked with faux-surprise. “What conversation.”

Stephen was not fooled. “Tony . . . if . . . _not_ having children is a dealbreaker for you, then . . .” He sighed, trying to find the right words. “I’m not _entirely_ opposed to the idea.”

Tony smiled sadly. “Yes, you are.”

A beat passed before Stephen said, “Alright, yes, I am. But I could change my mind. Or try to at least. For you.”

“No. We’re not . . . You shouldn’t have to do that. It was just a thought, Doc. Really. I never even thought I was going to have kids. I’m not losing anything.”

Stephen wasn’t convinced, but he decided to let it slide for the moment. Instead . . . “Are you okay?”

Tony smiled. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Stephen did not return the look. “You used to smile like the world was laid out at your feet. Now you look like it's crushing your back.”

Tony couldn’t deny that. Sokovia was his fault, Bruce was gone, Thor had left to search for infinity stones, and they lost a new ally as soon as they gained one. But . . . “Oh, I’ll be fine.” He took Stephen’s hand in his, rubbing a tumb over the lines of his palm. “I have you.”

* * *

Tony dreamt of glowing stones and threats beyond the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stephen: *points to each of the Avengers* Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you in particular, let's go Tony.
> 
> "Because you'll bleed him dry then call him selfish when he doesn't have any more blood to give." I would love to take credit for this line, but I actually saw it on Tumblr somewhere about the Avengers and Tony, so credit to that person
> 
> Looking forward to the next chapter, which is ... well, you'll see.
> 
> You'll see.


	9. Captain America: Civil War & Doctor Strange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all: Can we see the wedding?  
> Me: Civil War and Doctor Strange? You want the combined angst of Civil War and Doctor Strange in one chapter?  
> Y'all: That's not even close-  
> Me: Ask and you shall receive, Civil War and Doctor Strange it is
> 
> The song for this chapter is SOS by Abba
> 
> Also: there is some sexual content in this chapter (twice, actually); if that makes you uncomfortable, it's easy to skip it
> 
> Also, also: I am a team iron man ho, and though I swear I tried to portray everyone fairly, you still might not like some of the choices that I made in writing this. Just a heads up.

_— 2016-2017 —_

Stephen smiled, reaching up to gently grab Tony’s hand when his fiancé held a strawberry up to his mouth and wrapping his lips around the sweet red flesh before severing it in half. “Mm.” He pulled Tony down for a kiss, rolling onto his back so they were on the ground with Tony on top. He nipped down his jaw. “Sweet.”

Tony growled, pulling at the buttons of Stephen’s shirt—

—when his phone rang.

Stephen groaned, stretching out on the grass while Tony sat up and cursed, looking for his phone. “ _Again?_ ”

“I know, I know,” Tony said, “just give me a minute.”

Stephen rolled his eyes, looking out over the mountain top view. They were supposed to be left alone — it was probably the only time they were going to really see each other all week, Stephen being needed at the hospital and Tony booked almost hour-to-hour with Avengers and S.I. meetings — hence why they were so far away from everyone else, looking down at the peaceful trees and tiny buildings while a suit stood watch. But these interruptions, into their lives, into _Tony’s_ , were happening more and more since Sokovia.

And the other Avengers were no help. Instead, Stephen found himself growing more and more tired of them whenever they had to be in the same room. The last time he’d seen them, sans Thor and Bruce, the heroes had been arguing about what to do now that public opinion was shifting and they didn’t have Shield to protect them. Stephen hadn’t paid much attention until someone said something about Sokovia that made Tony flinch. Then his attention had been laser-sharp, and it wasn’t long before he snapped.

_“Ultron, it always comes back to fucking Ultron with you people. Never mind Bruce's contribution, or Wanda's little mind-rape, or the mind stone! God forbid anyone but Tony take any responsibility for their actions!”_

After they left, he and Tony argued about it. Stephen had almost screamed in frustration. _“I don’t_ ** _care_ **_anymore, Tony! I just— I just can’t put up with it anymore! They'd blame you if it flooded or if there was a drought, if was too hot or too cold. If there's a fight, they'll blame you for starting or stopping it. No matter what happens, the blame will be laid at your feet. None of them see everything you do — for the Avengers, for the world. They don’t see how hard you try to keep them safe. I see more than all of them, but I know I don’t see everything.”_

Stephen snapped out of his memories when he realized Tony was still speaking to Ross. Scowling, he sat up and snatched the phone out of Tony’s hand, backing up when Tony reached for it. “Hello, Secretary Ross, I’m very sorry to interrupt your call, but I’m afraid that Tony has some very important Iron Man business to do and just can’t talk right now.” He hung up before the man could talk back, and threw the phone at the suit, yelling, “Catch!”

The suit obeyed.

Tony sighed. “Doc, now is not the time to be playing games with the _Secretary of State—_ ”

Stephen smiled, pushed him to the ground, and rolled on top.

* * *

The rest of the week was busy, though Tony at least came home every night to sleep in their bed. And Stephen had a particularly good day, teasing Christine about Pepper and saving one of Nick’s patients and embarrassing him in front of everyone, one of his favorite things to do. 

Only one thing could make it better— “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” 

He was speaking at a Neurological Society dinner that night, but Tony had a pile of paperwork from the UN to look through and wasn’t coming. 

Tony looked up from the bed, wearing a pair of reading glasses that made Stephen want to pull off his suit jacket and spend the rest of the night at home. 

Unfortunately, Tony spoke. “I’ll come with you if you let me put Thor back on the wedding guest list.”

Stephen rolled his eyes, turning away. “We’re not talking about that.”

“It’s such a stupid thing! You’re just being petty!” 

Stephen spun around on his heel, eyes narrowing. He stepped closer to the bed, standing over Tony. “What if it was me?”

Tony didn’t move. His eyes seemed to widen, just enough to show a difference. “What?”

“What if Thor or Rogers or Hulk—” he took Tony’s hands and placed them on his own neck, watching Tony turn pale, “—wrapped a hand around my throat, lifted me into the air, and threatened to choke the life from me?”

Tony jerked his hands away, breathing harshly. Stephen set a hand over his chest, feeling the scars and the movement of Tony’s lungs. “Did I go too far?”

Tony considered it and shrugged. “No. I think . . . maybe I needed to hear that.”

Stephen leaned down, nuzzling Tony’s hair. “They take too much from you.”

Tony took his hand, running a thumb over the lines of Stephen’s palm. “I’m still not going tonight.” 

Stephen pushed him away. “You’re no fun.”

* * *

By the time he left, he was still feeling spiteful, though not enough to do anything of consequence. He settled for taking his car instead of one of Tony’s, a recent purchase that Stephen insisted Tony have nothing to do with. They already lived in Tony’s penthouse in Tony’s tower and Tony’s everything else, and Stephen liked the idea of having something that was his entirely. 

He still let him install Friday in the car, though. Just to make him shut up. She wouldn't be able to control it without Stephen's say-so, or really do much more than give him alerts, which he thought was a good compromise.

Stephen sped down the street, ignoring the rain beating down on them. He’d made it to the mountain road when someone called. “Friday, answer that.”

“Billy on the line, Doctor Strange-Stark,” Friday said.

Stephen shook his head at Tony’s attempts to convince him of how good their names sounded together, making a mental note to change it later. "What have you got for me, Billy?"

"I’ve got a thirty-five-year-old Air Force colonel. Crushed his lower spine in some kind of experimental armor. Mid-thoracic vertebral fracture."

Stephen frowned. Trying to recreate the Iron Man armor, perhaps? Lord knows Hammer was neither the first or last to try it. "Well, I could help, but so can fifty other people. Find me something worth my time."

Billy was used to his refusals and had several more ready. "There's a sixty-eight-year-old female with an advanced brain stem glioma."

Stephen scoffed, passing a car and narrowly avoiding another one coming towards him. "Yeah, you want me to screw up my perfect record? Definitely not."

"How about a twenty-two-year-old female with an electronic implant in her brain to control schizophrenia struck by lightning?"

"That _does_ sound interesting," Stephen conceded, pulling out of his lane so he could pass the person in front of him. "Could you send me the—" his phone lit up, the patient's documents already there. "Got it, thanks." He glanced between his phone and the road, trying to read—

“ _Doctor Strange—_ ”

Stephen looked up in time to see his car ram into another and spin off the road.

* * *

It wasn't long before Tony got a headache from pretending to care. He was debating how many breaks he could justify taking where Friday spoke.

"Boss," the A.I. said urgently, "there's been—"

"Alert Steve and Nat, see if they're available," Tony said absently. "I told—"

" _Tony,_ Stephen has been in a car accident!"

* * *

Tony didn't quite remember what happened next, only that it happened. He got the suit on at some point, and Friday sent him coordinates — he might have yelled at her for them, it wasn't clear.

He used the Mark XL to get there before the ambulance arrived, traveling at top speed. The words _he’s okay_ reverberated through his head like a mantra. _He’s okay, he’s okay, he’s—_

The car had veered off the mountain road and fallen into a river below. The front end was plunged into the water, the light of the arc reactor shining off the broken silver metal. 

Tony swept down to the front, looking through the windshield. He let out a noise that wasn’t quite human when he saw Stephen, bruised, unconscious, and his hands . . . 

Tony belatedly realized that he’d called some of the other suits, all of which were arriving, slower than the one Tony wore. He cleared his throat. “Get the . . .” He wondered if he should wait for first responders, if he might just make things worse by moving the car. Stephen could be paralyzed or . . .

But wasting time could be just as harmful. 

“Red Snapper, Igor, keep the car stabilized while the others lift it. Get him on the road.” He leaned over, speaking through the broken window. “Stephen, I’m here.” He knew he couldn’t hear him, couldn’t see him, but he needed to say it. He needed to do everything he could. “I’m not going anywhere.”

* * *

Christine was the first person he saw at the hospital, joining him and the paramedics running alongside Stephen's stretcher. They were speaking, yelling, asking him questions, but he didn’t hear them. There was nothing but himself and Stephen, both of them desperately holding onto life with everything they had. 

Tony looked down at him — an oxygen mask over his mouth, dark blood covering skin paler than he’d ever seen it, his hands wrapped in hastily applied gauze and bandages. “You’re okay.” Tony didn’t know if he meant Stephen or himself. “You’re going to be okay.” 

As soon as they made it to the operating room, Christine stopped, putting a hand on Tony’s chest to still him. 

Tony tried to push forward, Christine blocking his every step. “I have to go in there, I have to _be with him—_ ”

“Tony, you can’t be in there,” Christine said, trying to hold him back. “Damn it— sit down or I’ll have to call security!”

That made him behave, if only so they couldn’t keep him from Stephen when he woke up. Because he would. He _would_ wake up and be alright and fine, and Tony would need to be there for him when he did.

He let Christine lead him to the waiting room and sit him in a chair. She held him down by the shoulders, not sure if he would try to get up and follow her. “I’m going to go to Stephen now,” she said slowly. “I’ll keep you updated as best I can.” She was still for a moment, debating with herself over something, before wrapping her arms around his shoulders, hugging him. 

Tony realized they’d never done this before, never been this close to each other. He hugged her back.

“He’s gonna be fine,” Christine promised. 

Tony sunk into the chair as Christine left, heart pounding in his ears. _Fine. Everything’s fine. He’ll be okay._

_He will._

* * *

Tony wasn’t aware of much that happened over the next few hours. He thought he might have had some coffee, that Pepper had called, that Christine had spoken to him, that he’d been ambushed by paparazzi and reporters who’d found out what happened, and that he’d bruised his hands beating one who got too close and pushed too far. There were arguments then, people who wanted to make him leave. But it was hard to make Iron Man do something he didn’t want to, harder still to do it when the one he loved most was at stake. 

Finally, Christine spoke to him, but this time he heard her. “He’s in recovery. We’ve done everything he can.” 

For a moment, Tony couldn’t breathe, certain he’d misheard somehow. The universe never let anything go well for him. 

Then he fell to the ground and sobbed in relief.

* * *

It hurt.

Everything hurt. Movement was too much for him. If he so much as tried, it would send waves of pain through his body. His senses were dulled just enough that he didn't understand what had happened. Not enough so that he could not feel it. His own blood was thick and sluggish in its veins. His hands—

_My hands._

It hurt to open his eyes. The light was white and too much for him. He turned his head, setting his sight on the body beside his bed.

 _Tony._ It was some comfort to know that he was somewhere, if not safe, then where he had protection. Tony wouldn’t let anything separate them.

As soon as Stephen moved, groaning in pain when he did, Tony sat up, reaching out a hand to his shoulder. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

Stephen breathed hard, his chest tight. _What . . . what’s . . ._ He looked down.

His hands were held up in front of him, decorated by ugly red stitches and metal bars that stood out of the bones.

Stephen stared. It was as though the sight broke a dam, and the memories of what happened and the pain in his hands, just barely dulled by drugs, hit him in the chest, knocking the wind from him. “What . . .” It hurt to speak. “. . . did they do?” 

Tony swallowed, as though he were the one who couldn’t speak. “I got there as quickly as I could, but we had to wait for paramedics to arrive.” He rubbed Stephen’s shoulder, to comfort him or himself, neither knew. “I came with you in a helicopter, but it still took a while to get you here. And the water . . .” 

“What . . . _did they do?_ ”

Tony was crying when he spoke. “There’s . . . nerve damage in both hands. Eleven steel pins in the bones. It was . . . it was pretty bad. You were in surgery for a long time.”

“ _Look_ ," Stephen demanded, and Tony did, though he hated it. "Why did . . . I . . .”

“They did everything they could. No one could have—”

Both of him knew what he was going to say, and that it wasn’t true.

Stephen stared. “I could have done better.”

* * *

Tony didn’t sleep much over the next few weeks. There was too much to be done. He didn’t do much of anything but make changes to the penthouse, making everything he could think to voice-command instead of manual and getting rid of anything he thought would be a pain. 

Whenever there were visiting hours, he was at the hospital. All Avengers business was postponed or passed off to someone else to handle so he could be with him. When he was there, he did everything he could to help Stephen — researching surgeries, staying with him during checkups, even shaving his face for him. Stephen rarely spoke except to snap at him or Christine or the doctors or the universe. 

The second day, he didn’t say anything until a few minutes before Tony had to leave. 

“My ring . . .” Stephen wasn’t looking at him, his eyes far away.

Tony started to reach for him before stopping, not knowing what to do with his hands. “It was lost in the . . . I couldn't find it.” Finally, he brushed his fingers through Stephen’s dark hair. “I have some shrapnel left over. I'll make you a new one.”

Stephen didn’t respond.

* * *

Tony was at his side when Christine unwrapped the bandages around Stephen’s shaking hands, revealing angry red lines down the fingers. Stephen stared before shaking his head, his voice wavering. “No . . .” 

Tony rubbed his shoulder, ignoring his hands. “Stephen . . .” For once, he didn’t have anything to say.

“You need to give your body time to heal,” Nick said, seeming uncomfortable.

Stephen looked like he was going to scream. “You ruined me.”

* * *

He wasn’t sure why he thought things would be better when they went home. As soon as they were back in the penthouse, Stephen started making calls and arranging appointments. Tony watched warily as he worked. 

“Stephen, you should probably give it some time. Your hands haven’t healed—”

“And they’re not going to if I don’t do anything!” Stephen snapped. “Are you going to do anything useful?”

Tony wanted to snark back, but he remembered how small and helpless Stephen had seemed in the car. And he knew what it was like to lose yourself.

“What do you need?”

* * *

Sometimes Tony thought they could live like this. He could handle the changes. _Don't overfill his glass. Catch him so he doesn't land on his hands. Make sure you have gloves ready before going anywhere cold. Always carry painkillers._

He didn't think Stephen could handle it.

* * *

Within a few months, Stephen had blown through his personal savings. Tony handed over access to his bank accounts without prompting. He looked for more and complex or experimental surgeries, better doctors. 

It didn’t work.

* * *

Tony hung up on Ross when Stephen came in. He couldn’t possibly put up with both of them at the same time. “How was physical therapy?” 

Stephen, standing beside him, rolled his eyes. “It was _great_ , Tony, I just _love_ having to relearn how to do something any toddler can do and think about how useless I am—”

“You’re not useless!” Tony said, pulling Stephen to him by the hips and down to his lap. “You’re _not_. You’re one of the greatest people I know.”

Stephen made a half-hearted attempt at a struggle before slumping against Tony’s chest, resting his head on Tony's shoulder. 

They sat there for a few minutes, neither speaking. Soon, Tony turned off his phone and pulled Stephen up by his arms. “C’mon. Let’s go to sleep. No more work today. Just us.”

Stephen followed him.

* * *

Tony lazily drifted into wakefulness, rocking his hips against something warm and firm. His hand instinctively sought out the body next to him, drugging his palm along soft skin.

The person shifted. “Tony.” Stephen looked at him over his shoulder.

Tony smiled, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "Morning." Technically true, it was two am.

Stephen didn't respond, staring at Tony's erection against his ass. Tony jerked back, rolling away from him. "Sorry."

Stephen, not making a sound, loosely grabbed his wrist, holding him in place. He waited until he was sure Tony would stay put before getting a bottle of lube out of their nightstand and tossing it at him. “Get me ready, will you?”

Tony wasn’t sure if they should — they hadn’t had sex since Stephen’s accident — but then Stephen looked up at him, seeming so desperate and needy, and whispered, “Please, Anthony.”

And maybe Tony was weaker than he thought because he didn’t question it further, thinking nothing of the way Stephen rolled onto his stomach, still and pliant. He didn’t speak, didn’t make a noise except to tell Tony to keep going whenever he stopped to check on him. Tony took his time opening him up while Stephen lay with his head pillowed on crossed arms, occasionally looking up at him. There was a sharp intake of breath when Tony breached him, though neither could tell who made the sound. If it was Stephen, he didn't repeat himself, lying in silence as Tony fucked him, accepting his kisses but giving nothing. 

It wasn’t long before Tony grew restless, sitting back on his knees and pulling Stephen up. “Get on your side,” Tony said, positioning him how he wanted. “Please, Stephen, please, I need you now . . .”

Stephen obeyed without responding, laying on his side while Tony lined up to him, his chest to Stephen’s back. One of Tony’s hands held him in place while the other mapped out Stephen’s creamy white skin as Tony moved in him, feeling his strong back and arms and chest. “Please, please, _please_ . . .” Tony’s hand fell lower, to Stephen’s stomach. 

For the first time, Stephen moved of his own accord, trying to push Tony away, but Tony had already stilled, Stephen’s soft cock in his hand.

“You're not enjoying this.”

 _God, what am I doing?_ He detached himself from Stephen as quickly as he could without hurting him. Stephen tried to stop him, grabbing his arm, but his hands were aching and his grip was weak. Tony left him on the bed, escaping to the bathroom. 

He got in the shower before the water was hot. Then it was steaming, burning, and he tried to clean the feeling of disgust and shame away, scrubbing his skin until it was pink and painful under the steaming water.

It didn't work.

He remembered when Stephen used to join him in these showers, always with a teasing smile and hands that helped themselves to Tony's body, seeking out every bit of him until they were kissing, rubbing off against each other with their eyes closed and tongues down each other's throats.

Tony leaned against the shower wall and screamed.

* * *

Eventually, he had to go back. He had to face him.

Stephen never made it easy, of course. His shoulders were stiff, his back to the door, and he tensed when he heard Tony come in. He didn’t move, even when Tony moved a warm washcloth over his messy skin. Slowly, once he was clean and Tony was massaging his back, Stephen broke, melting into Tony’s touch as tears streamed down his cheeks.

“Do you still love me?” Stephen asked, and his voice was broken.

“Of course I do,” Tony whispered into Stephen’s shoulder, pressing his forehead against the cool skin.

Stephen didn’t try to hide his sobs. “Please don't leave me. I think I'd die if you left me.”

Tony pushed him onto his back, pulling a blanket over them and wrapping his arms around Stephen as the other man cried. “I’m _never_ going to do that? _Nothing_ matters more to me than you, okay? _Nothing._ ”

* * *

Another month came, then one more. Stephen rarely paid attention to anyone else, desperately grasping at possibilities that seemed more and more unlikely every minute. They were still tentatively moving towards the wedding in summer, though Stephen showed less and less interest in that. And in Tony.

For Christine’s sake, it was probably a good thing that she waited until Stephen was at one of his physical therapy sessions before coming to talk to Tony.

He knew what she wanted as soon as Friday said she was there. He made coffee while Friday let her in. “Christine, I don’t remember, do you like decaf or regular?”

“Regular, extra sugar.”

“I knew that part.” Tony set a mug in front of her and sat down in the kitchen. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Christine took her time drinking coffee before answering. “You need to talk to Stephen.”

Tony sipped from his mug.

“He’s ruining what’s left of his hands, he’s driving himself crazy looking for a cure that isn’t there when he needs to be coming to terms with it. Half the people who’ve operated on wouldn’t have even considered it if it weren’t for you.”

Tony knew she was right, knew it as much as he hated it, but he’d feel like he failed Stephen if he didn’t push at least a little. “So I’m supposed to tell him to give up on everything he’s worked for? The past twenty years of his life, everything he’s passionate about?”

Christine didn’t respond.

“Why me? Why don’t you do it if you feel so strongly about it?”

“Because he listens to you.”

Tony laughed. “It is so weird hearing other people talk about my relationship, because it's so clear they don’t know what they’re saying.”

Christine rolled her eyes. “He listens to you more than he does anyone else.”

“That is an _incredibly_ low bar.”

“I know. But it’s the one we have.”

Tony really hated it when Stephen was wrong. It always ended up being his problem.

* * *

“ _TONY!_ ”

 _Oh boy_ , Tony thought, setting aside his tablet and straightening in his seat. He’d known it was coming, but somehow it still seemed to knock the wind from him. 

Stephen stormed into the living room. “Tony, _why can’t I access our bank account?_ ”

“Because I changed it this morning. You still have money, though. About a thousand in your account, I can give you more if you need.”

Stephen stood in front of him. He’d taken to wearing Tony’s band tees over the past few weeks, and had on a Black Sabbath shirt now. His hair was messier than usual, and he’d stopped letting Tony shave him, so he had a shaggy salt-and-pepper beard. His hands were shaking harder than usual, and Tony wondered if he should have put together a bowl of hot water to help them like he’d been doing. “Tony, you _know_ that I need two hundred thousand for the Tokyo procedure, we could be there in a week!”

“And you know that I’m not going to give it to you.” Tony’s voice was stronger than he felt. 

“Why. _Not?_ ”

Tony reached for his arm, not reacting when Stephen smacked it away. “Stephen, you can't keep this up, Stephen. You're doing more harm than good. You won’t even give yourself time to heal. You need to move on.”

“Oh, that's _rich_ coming from you,” Stephen snapped, his eyes seeming more green than Tony had ever seen them. “What, does it feel good to have a mistake that isn't yours to fix?”

Tony’s chest tightened. “Stephen—”

But there was no reasoning with him now. Stephen didn’t even look at Tony as he ranted. “You can never save everyone, you can barely save yourself, now you want to save me, but you can’t even do that, what is the _point_ of you?!”

Tony tried three times before he could speak. “You don’t mean that.”

Stephen laughed harshly. Outside, it was storming. “Oh, please. When’s the last time you tried to help someone where you didn’t end up making things worse? Now you’re doing it to me and hoping it works, well just _thanks_ , Tony, it’s going _great_. It must feel _great_ to think that someone finally _needs you_.”

Tony stared at him before slowly standing up. “I’m gonna go to the workshop. You can come down if you want to talk rationally.”

Stephen turned away from him, looking out the glass wall. “Just go.”

* * *

Stephen knew that Tony hadn’t left the workshop in upwards of two days, but he still had no intention of speaking to him. If Tony was tired of helping him, then one of them could leave, and by that point, he didn’t care which one it was. 

He sat down in the infirmary to look through the medical files he’d requested, though he was almost sure he wouldn’t find . . . anything . . .

_“One guy, yeah. Factory accident, broke his back. Paralyzed. His leg wasted away. He had pain in his shoulder from the wheelchair. He came in 3 times a week. But one day he stopped coming. I thought he was dead. A few years later, he walked past me on the street.”_

_Where are you, Jonathan Pangborn . . ._

* * *

Not very far, as it turned out.

Stephen found him playing basketball, running around as though he’d never been injured a day in his life. He waited until the man was close to the fence closing off the basketball court to speak. “Jonathan Pangborn, C7-C8 spinal cord injury, complete. Paralyzed from the mid-chest down. Partial paralysis of both hands.”

Pangborn stopped and stared at him, seeming equal parts confused and creeped out by the strange man who knew about his horrific spinal injury. “Who are you?”

“I’m Stephen Strange. I’m a neurosurgeon. Or . . .” He swallowed past the weight in his throat. “ _Was_ a neurosurgeon.”

Pangborn leaned back, looking at him with recognition. “You know what, man? I _do_ know you.” He stepped closer, only a couple of feet from Stephen’s face. “I came to your office once. You refused to see me. I never got past your assistant.”

Stephen flinched. “You were _untreatable_.” Hell, Stephen still didn’t know how the man was even standing in front of him. 

“No glory for you in that, right?” Stephen panicked when he started to walk away, and yelled after him.

“You came back from a place there is no way back from!”

Pangborn stopped, looking back at him. 

“I . . .” Stephen held up his hands — scarred, shaking, _useless_. “I’m trying to find my own way back.”

Pangborn hesitated before returning to stand in front of him. “Alright. I’d . . . _given up_ on my body. I thought my mind was the only thing I had left, so I should at least try to elevate that. I sat with gurus and sacred women. Strangers carried me to mountain tops to see holy men. And finally, I found my teacher. And my mind was elevated. And my spirit deepened. And somehow—”

“Your body healed,” Stephen said, mind moving faster than his thoughts could keep up.

Pangborn nodded. “Yes. And there were deeper secrets to learn, but I did not have the strength to receive them. I chose to settle for my miracle, and I came back home.” He hesitated before saying, “You can go to Kathmandu and find a place called Kamar-Taj, but the cost is high.”

“How much?” He didn’t want to go begging to Tony, but he would if he had to. No matter what else happened between them, Tony did not want Stephen to suffer, and it wouldn’t take much to wear him down. 

Pangborn shook his head. “I’m not talking about money.” He stepped back. “Good luck.” And he returned to his game.

* * *

Tony sat back after he put the final touch on his project, satisfied. It was only a prototype, but if the gloves worked, they would soothe Stephen’s hands and control the worst of the shaking. Hopefully Stephen would accept his peace offering and they could move past their argument. 

_Maybe we could get away from a month._ It might be a good idea. Clearly staying in a place so full of memories and where everyone knew them wasn’t doing Stephen any favors. They could get some fresh air, maybe some perspective. _Stephen would like to go to Italy again._ And he thought it was sexy when Tony spoke Italian. Win-win as far as he was concerned.

Tony put the gloves in a box. “Fri, where’s Doctor Strangelove right now?”

“Doctor Strange left four hours ago, boss.”

Oh. Well, that was annoying. “Did he say where he was going?”

The silence seemed to stretch on for years before Friday said, “I think you should check your room.”

Which was easily the most foreboding thing his A.I. had ever said to him. He ran upstairs and opened the bedroom door.

Stephen wasn't there, but his stuff was — phone, computer, credit cards, watches, all of it was in a pile on top of Stephen's dresser. 

“Boss,” Friday said warily, “I feel I should tell you that before Stephen came home, he withdrew the rest of his money from his bank account.”

Tony’s heart slowed. “Anything else you feel like mentioning?”

“He called a cab.”

* * *

The streets of Kathmandu had more people than cars. Ancient-looking buildings and temples and small stores were crammed together. The Himalayas were a shadow in the distance.

Stephen wandered through the city for hours, asking anyone who would listen if they knew about Kamar-Taj. After the fiftieth wrong turn, he started to panic. He had just enough money to make a call if he had to, but the thought of crawling back to Tony like this made his skin crawl. 

He found a street that was mostly empty, save for a small dog that was limping pathetically. Stephen, his heartstrings sufficiently tugged, stopped and knelt down. “Hey.” He held his hand out, gently petting the dog’s head when it tentatively came closer. “Oh, you poor thing.” One of its front paws was injured. “This is why you gotta be careful chasing cats. And men, for that matter.”

There was a box with short, thin pieces of wood in it on the street. Stephen doubted anyone would miss one of them. He used one of the pieces and a bit of emergency gauze he had on hand to make a splint. “There you go.” He sent the dog on its way and stood, quickly realizing he’d made a mistake.

“Okay . . .” Stephen said quietly as muggers surrounded him. “Guys, I don’t have any money.” Which was true. He’d transferred the money for the plane ticket to one of S.I.’s employees and bribed them not to tell Tony before using cash to pay for a cab to the airport. After that, there had only been a few dollars left, which wouldn’t satisfy them. 

The lead mugger, standing close to Stephen, looked at his hand. “Your watch.”

Stephen shook his head. "No, _please_ , it's all I have—”

The man stepped closer. “Your watch.”

Stephen looked down, nodding reluctantly. “Alright.” He took a breath before swinging out a fist, punching the man in the face before screaming in pain, clutching his hand. _I officially miss Tony._

Next thing he knew, he was on the ground, a foot ramming into his ribs while someone took the watch from his wrist.

For a moment, Stephen thought he hallucinated the man in the green cloak. But then he drove the muggers away, breaking one's arm and another's foot, so at least it was a helpful hallucination.

Stephen slowly rose to his feet, wincing in pain, as the muggers ran. The cloaked man stepped towards him, holding out his watch. Stephen took it gratefully, feeling tears prickle at his eyes when he saw the smashed face of the watch. He shook his head, trying to control himself. "Thank you."

The stranger pulled down his hood, revealing a handsome dark-skinned man in weird green clothes. There were thin scars on his cheeks and forehead. "You’re looking for Kamar-Taj?"

* * *

The man, Mordo, led him to a pretty unimpressive door set in an older brick building surrounded by identical buildings. “Are you sure you got the right place? I’m sure there are places that are more . . . Kamar-Taj.”

Mordo stopped before the door, looking at Stephen and turning to face him fully. “I once stood in your place. And I, too, was . . . disrespectful. So might I offer you some advice? Forget everything you think you know.”

“. . . Okay.”

Mordo was opening the door before Stephen spoke, leading him inside. Stephen looked around at the intricately carved wooden walls and latticework, the spires of heady incense smoke, and thought, _I really hope this isn’t a cult that’s going to murder me for my organs._ In hindsight, it might have been good to have some sort of phone or way to contact someone . . .

Mordo didn’t seem to notice anything was off about him, saying, “This is the sanctuary of our teacher, the Ancient One.”

They stopped in front of a doorless room. “The Ancient One? What’s their real name?”

Mordo looked at him.

Stephen sighed. “Right. Forget everything I think I know. Sorry.” He went in.

The walls were the same latticework that they used as windows. Light filtered in from outside, falling on the black-and-orange tiled floor and the wooden benches and tables that were scattered across the room. A man who looked to be East Asian sat in at the head of the room, clothed in pale blue robes and reading a leatherbound book. There were a few other people, standing, preparing tea, moving books, or ducking out of sight.

Stephen, assuming the man was in charge (c’mon, he had the fancy robes), spoke to him. “Thank you for—” Someone removed his coat, pulling it down his arms before walking away without a word. “Okay, that’s . . . thank you.” Another person handed him a small cup, and a woman in stark white robes poured tea into it. Stephen took it gratefully. “Thank you, that’s very . . . nice. And thank you, Ancient One . . .” 

He trailed off awkwardly when the man stood and walked away — a moment before the woman in white smiled and said, “You’re very welcome.”

Stephen stilled before looking at Mordo, who bowed slightly to the woman. _Oh, well thank you for letting me embarrass myself._

Mordo nodded before stepping back, allowing Stephen to go in first.

The Ancient One nodded to Mordo in acknowledgment. “Thank you, Master Mordo, Master Hamir.” Hamir left after looking back once and bowing. She returned her attention to Stephen. “Mister Strange.”

And he knew he shouldn’t, but— “Doctor, actually.” He gingerly sipped his tea.

“Not anymore, surely,” she said with a smile.

Well.

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” she continued, making Stephen pause. “You’ve undergone many procedures. Eleven, right?” 

“Yeah . . .” Stephen said, watching her walk over to a table and pour more tea. “Did you heal a man named Pangborn?”

The Ancient One paused, considering it. “In a way.”

“You helped him to walk again,” Stephen clarified. 

She looked up at him. “Yes.”

“How did you correct a complete C7-C8 spinal cord injury?” Stephen asked, feeling genuinely curious and excited about something for the first time in weeks.

“Oh, I didn’t correct it,” she said, adding some honey to the tea. “He couldn’t walk; I convinced him that he could.”

“You’re not suggesting that it was psychosomatic?” 

She thought about it for a moment before speaking. “When you reattach a severed nerve, is it you who heals it back together or the body?”

Stephen half-shrugged. “It’s the cells.”

“And the cells are only programmed to put themselves together in very specific ways.” She was stirring the tea now, and oddly soothing gesture that Stephen found hard to ignore. “What if I told you that your own body could be convinced to put itself back together in all sorts of ways?”

“You’re talking about cellular regeneration,” Stephen said in an awed, hushed tone. “That’s . . . that’s _bleeding-edge_ medical tech. Is that why you’re working here, without a governing medical board? I mean, just how experimental _is_ your treatment?”

The Ancient One handed a cup to Mordo, tilting her head as she looked at Stephen. “Quite.”

“So, you figured out a way to reprogram nerve cells to self-heal?” Which was . . . amazing, but not _impossible_. At least not _theroetically—_

“No, Mister Strange,” she said, walking up to him. “I know how to reorient the spirit to better heal the body.”

Which . . . sounded fake, but he’d come too far to stop now. “The spirit . . . to heal the body.”

The Ancient One, unimpressed by his skepticism, walked away, looking through a stack of books. 

Stephen shook his head. “Alright, how . . . how do we do that, where do we start?”

She held up a book for him, page turned to a diagram of . . . chakras.

Stephen stared. 

She tilted her head, smiling. “Don’t like that map?”

“Oh, no,” Stephen said with fake cheer. “It’s very good. It’s just, y’know, I’ve seen it before. In gift shops.”

The Ancient One chuckled, turning the page. “And what about this one?”

Stephen was quickly losing patience. “Acupuncture. _Great._ ” 

“What about . . . that one?”

Stephen was on the verge of pulling out his hair in frustration. “Are you honestly showing me an MRI scan? I just, I can _not_ believe this!” Stephen turned away, running his hands through his hair. He barely heard the woman speak, too busy wondering what the hell he’d wasted his time on.

 _I’ll have to go crawling back to Tony._ It was the last thing in the world he wanted to do. He could accept his anger, expected it by that point, but he couldn’t stand his worry — or worse, his _pity_. 

“I have spent _months_ trying to get my life back, and you’re talking to me about healing through _belief?_ ” 

“You’re a man who’s looking at the world through a keyhole—” _Well now you’re just TRYING to piss me off_ “—and you spent your whole life trying to widen that keyhole, to see more, _know_ more. And now, on hearing that it can be widened in ways you can’t imagine, you reject the possibility?”

“ _No_ ,” Stephen said, his words coming louder and quicker as he spoke, “I reject it because I do not believe in fairy tales about _chakras_ , or _energy,_ or the _power of belief_! There is no such thing as spirit! We are made of matter, and nothing more. We’re just another tiny, momentary speck within an indifferent universe.”

“You think too little of yourself.”

Stephen wanted to laugh, to grab and shake her, to _scream_. “Oh, you think you see through me, do you? Well, you _don’t_. But I see through _you!_ ” His hand moved of its own accord, but she grabbed it, pulling his hand back and swinging her arm out, placing a palm on his chest and . . . and . . . 

He was floating through the air, a pale, weightless version of himself, looking down at his empty body as it fell backward. _Is this what Donna felt like?_

Then he was pulled back, like a rubber band that snapped, and his body was real and solid and heavy.

Stephen thought he might hyperventilate. “What did you just do to me?!”

“I pushed your astral form out of your physical form,” the Ancient One said simply.

“What’s in that tea?” Stephen demanded, shaking. “Psilocybin? LSD?”

“Just tea.” She paused before admitting, “With a little honey.”

Stephen ignored her. Sweat was dripping down his forehead. He was shaking. “What just happened?”

“For a moment, you entered the astral dimension.” She was far too calm for the situation. “A place where the soul exists apart from the body.” She stood inches from him, staring with too-blue eyes.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“To show you just how much you don’t know. Open your _eye_.” Her hand shot out to his head, a thumb pressing to his forehead, and _oh JESUS CHRIST—_

He was falling through the building, through the roof, bursting out the wooden ceiling, he was screaming as he fell through the sky, far past the point where he could see the ground. “ _Oh God! Oh fuck! This isn’t real, it isn’t real, it isn’t—_ ” He stopped, freezing in place at the boundary between space and air, as a monarch butterfly fluttered towards his fingers. He stared, reaching out for it, before being yanked back, screaming as the earth beneath him became a whir of golden lights and darkness, twisting around him until it formed a tube that switched from neon color to neon color and stretched into infinity. 

Distantly, he heard Mordo say something, and then he was falling back in a chair, the Ancient One on one side of him and Mordo on the other. The Ancient One looked at him for a moment before saying, “He looks alright to me,” before sending him back into the place between worlds.

The place stretched and reformed and reformed and _reformed_ around him, impossible to comprehend. He was moving like a meteor, golden light too bright to see trailing behind him, and then he _completely_ lost the script, and the only thought in his mind was, _Holy fuck, I want Tony!_

“ _You think you know how the world works?_ ” The Ancient One said from somewhere far away. “ _You think that this material universe is all there is?_ ”

He was stunned into silence as his body and mind were split into pieces by a giant pulsing metal eye with a beat like a drum before his body came back together to fall through the eye’s core. He barely noticed his body falling apart into a million single pieces and reforming in time to the pulses, too busy falling into a giant sphere of yellow energy. Which, joy, transferred him to a place that was full of yellow explosions and toxic green orbs that looked like they would blow up if you looked at them funny. 

“ _What is real? What mysteries lie beyond the reach of your senses?_ ” He was spinning around, unable to control himself, and could do nothing more than be grateful he didn’t die when he passed through an explosion. Not that it did much for him, since he ended up in a completely different place, this one dark and black and brown and grey, with shapes that collapsed into a kaleidoscope of meaningless colors. 

“ _At the root of existence, mind and matter meet._ "

When he finished falling through _that_ , he was in a place that was made up entirely of something bone-colored and, were these bones? Was this entire dimension made of skeletons? 

_What the FUCK—_

Something grabbed his foot, an arm, then another, and another one took hold of his hand, and in the next instant, the _ENTIRE PLACE WAS MADE OF ARMS_ , and as though his day couldn’t get any _FUCKING WEIRDER_ , hands started growing _OUT OF HIS FINGERTIPS AS MORE ARMS CRAWLED UP HIS BODY UNTIL HE WAS DROWNING IN FLESH—_

None of which was as weird as the next moment, when he flew through his own _GIANT EYE_ , itself in a body that seemed to be _MADE OF HIS HANDS_.

“ _Thoughts shape reality.”_

_I GOT THAT!_

He tried to hold onto his own green-and-blue eye before falling through, bursting into a place of blue glass and dividing crystals. 

“ _This universe is only one of an infinite number. Worlds without end. Some benevolent and life-giving . . ._ ”

Stephen collapses into a crystal as it split, turning green and blue and purple and black, and the world changed again.

“ _. . . others filled with malice and hunger._ ”

Huge, strange shapes filled his vision, objects as large as planets twisting in ways that shouldn’t be possible, all of it in dark shades of purple and red and blue and green. 

“ _Dark places, where powers older than time lie . . . ravenous . . . and waiting._ ” Stephen fell forward head-first, spiraling down like a torpedo towards a planet that a black pit was devouring, and from that darkness emerged a face—

Stephen screamed almost out of habit until he found himself in a new place made of stardust and colorful nebulas. It was . . . quiet. He would have liked to share it with Tony.

Stephen drifted along peacefully while the Ancient One spoke. “ _Who are you in this vast multiverse, Mister Strange?_ "

Then he was yanked back. 

He fell through the ceiling and into the chair, breaking it as he collapsed on the floor, drawing himself up to his knees. 

The Ancient One looked down at him. “Have you seen that before in a gift shop?”

Stephen tried to breathe. He had only ever been more scared when Tony was kidnapped and when Donna died. His heart was racing, reverberating through his body. He could feel it in his hands, hear it in his ears. He thought it might burst and leave him dead there, never to see Tony again. 

And yet . . . 

Shaking, Stephen looked up. “Teach me!”

She stared at him. “No.”

* * *

Before he knew what was happening, Stephen was outside again, the door shutting behind him. “No . . .” He stood, hitting the door with his forearm. “No, no, no, no, no, no, _NO_!” Desperate, he pounded on the door, not noticing how his hands hurt. “No! Open the door! _Please!_ ”

He wasn’t sure how much time passed, though at some point he noticed that the sun had gone down and the street was dark. Exhausted, he rested against the door, occasionally kicking it or hitting it with his arm. “Please don’t shut me out.” 

He fell backward when the door opened. “Thank you.”

* * *

Mordo showed him to his room. It was small, but there was a bed and a desk. Not far off from when he lived in a dorm, actually.

There was also a phone on the desk.

. . . Well, now it was just annoying.

Mordo lit some incense. “Rest. Meditate, if you can. The Ancient One will send for you.” He started to leave before stopping right at the door. “He won’t find you.”

Stephen started. “What?”

Mordo gave him a look. “If you call him, he won’t be able to track you here. He can only find you if you let him.” He went out the door, holding it slightly open behind him. “Just a thought.”

Then Stephen was alone.

After a minute or so of silence, he took off his coat, his limbs aching from his earlier beating and then the 'trip' the Ancient One sent him on. He was ready to go to sleep when he remembered his watch. 

It was the one indulgence he'd brought with him. He'd considered leaving it behind, but he was fairly certain that Tony had never put a tracker in it. The face was smashed, making the numbers frozen in time. When he turned it over, the inscription was untouched — _How long will I love you? As long as you want._

Stephen stared at the heartfelt words before sighing and picking up the phone.

* * *

“Stephen,” Tony said, closing his eyes and mentally counting to ten, “come home _now_.”

“ _Tony_ , I can’t—”

“Friday, are you tracking this?”

“Trying to, boss.”

“Good.”

Stephen sighed over the phone. “Tony, I think . . . I found a way to heal my hands.”

Tony paused. “Stephen, I—”

“Tony, they healed a man who was completely paralyzed from the chest down, someone I myself said was untreatable and would never walk again. I _saw him walk_.”

Tony absently fiddled with a screwdriver before sighing. “I’ll be there in under a day, tell them I have my credit card. Fri, get a jet ready—”

“No, Tony, you can’t come here, it’s . . . private.”

“Oh, well that’s not at all suspicious.”

“I’m serious. And it’s probably going to take a while. I don’t know when I’ll be home.”

“What are you saying?” Tony asked, frowning when he saw that Friday still didn’t have anything. 

“. . . I think we should postpone the wedding.”

Tony’s hand gripped the metal table, his knuckles white. “Stephen, please, I know things haven’t been good, but I need—”

“Tony, this is not about that. I need . . .” Tony could almost see his hands shaking. “I need to be okay again. I need to have my life back, and I need to do this on my own.”

Tony wondered if he would break his table from gripping it too hard, wondered how his blood would look on the shining metal. “Stephen—”

“I have to go, Tony. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“No, Stephen—”

He hung up.

* * *

_“The source code that shapes reality. We harness energy drawn from other dimensions of the multiverse, to cast spells, conjure shields and weapons to make magic.”_

_“But . . . even if my fingers could do that, my hands would just be waving in the air. I mean, how do I get from here to there?”_

_“How did you get to reattach severed nerves, and put a human spine back together bone by bone?”_

_“Study and practice. Years of it.”_

_Well_ , Stephen thought, taking his books back to the library, _got that part done._ Granted, none of it had _done_ anything yet . . . 

The librarian looked at him when he came in. “Mister Strange.”

“Stephen, please. And you are?”

“. . . Wong.”

“Oh. Just Wong? Like Adele?” No response. “Or Aristotle. Bono. Eminem.”

Wong was not amused.

 _Well, Tony thinks I’m funny._

Ignoring him, Wong took the books he’d brought, checking the titles. “ _The Book of the Invisible Sun_. _Astronomia Nova_. _Codex Imperium_. _Key of Solomon_.” Wong looked at him, seeming mildly impressed. “You finished all of this?”

Stephen nodded. 

Wong considered that before saying, “Come with me,” and walking away without a response. 

“Okay . . .” Stephen followed as Wong led him to a different part of the library. There, the books were displayed so that you could see their covers and held up by simple bronze chains.

“This section is for Masters only. But at my discretion, others may use it.” He unchained a book. “We should start with _Maxim’s Primer_. How is your Sanskrit?”

Stephen wandered through the library, looking at the books while Wong collected more. “I’m fluent in Google Translate.”

Wong set the books in his hands. Stephen tried to keep them from shaking under the weight. A moment later, he set them on a table, stretching his fingers to try to work out the pain. 

He quickly found a distraction. “What are those?”

Wong followed his gaze. “The Ancient One’s private collection.” A faintly glowing sigil was in the center of each of the books’ covers. “You should leave them alone.”

“So they’re forbidden?” Stephen asked, already tempted.

Wong hesitated before answering. “No knowledge in Kamar-Taj is forbidden. Only certain practices. And those books are far too advanced for anyone other than the Sorcerer Supreme.”

Stephen’s hands moved almost of their own accord, taking down one of the books and flipping through it, though the language was foreign to his eyes. “This one’s got pages missing.”

“That’s the _Book of Cagliostro_ ,” Wong explained, still looking through books to loan to Stephen. “The study of time. One of the rituals was stolen by a former Master. A zealot called Kaecilius. Just after he strung up the former librarian, and relieved him of his head.” Wong stood in front of him. “I’m now the guardian of these books. So if a volume from this collection should be stolen again, I’d know it. And you’d be dead before you ever left the compound.” He took the _Book of Cagliostro_ from him, shutting it with one deft move.

Stephen looked at him awkwardly. “What if it’s just overdue? What are the late fees? Maiming, perhaps?”

Wong handed him the rest of the books and walked away.

* * *

Stephen stood in the courtyard with a group of novices in an assortment of white and grey robes, accepting a golden ring that fit over two of his fingers. His hand ached remembering his destroyed engagement ring.

Mordo did not seem to notice his difficulties, or if he did, he was too kind to be obvious about it. “Mastery of the sling ring is essential to the mystic arts. They allow us to travel throughout the multiverse. All you need to do is focus. Visualize.”

Mordo’s droning about how simple it was did not make Stephen feel better about the fact that he was managing at most a few sparks.

“See the destination in your mind. Look beyond the world in front of you. Imagine every detail. The clearer the picture, the quicker, and easier, the gateway will come.” He noticed the Ancient One walking towards them with Master Hamir at the same time Stephen did. “And stop.”

“I would like a moment alone with Mister Strange,” the Ancient One, coming to stand in front of him as Mordo and the others left. 

Stephen muttered something under his breath before speaking. “My hands—”

“It’s not about your hands.”

“How is this _not_ about my hands?” Stephen demanded, growing increasingly frustrated with his lack of progress.

The Ancient One looked at him for a moment before saying, “Master Hamir?”

The master stepped forward, moving his left sleeve up to show there was no hand there. Stephen stared as the man easily conjured an orange geometric mandala before banishing it. 

“ _Thank you_ , Master Hamir.”

He bowed, leaving them alone.

The Ancient One returned her attention to Stephen. “You cannot beat a river into submission. You have to surrender to its current, and use its power as your own.”

Stephen frowned. “I control it by _surrendering_ control? That doesn’t make any sense.”

She shrugged. “Not everything does. Not everything _has_ to. Your intellect has taken you far in life. But it will take you no further. _Surrender_ , Stephen. Silence your ego,” she held up a hand, conjuring a portal, “and your power will rise. Come with me.”

He followed her, quickly covering his arms when he realized they were in the middle of a blizzard. When he looked behind them, he saw a rocky black mountain top blanketed by clean white snow. “Wait, is this—”

“Everest. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Kind of hard to appreciate when his teeth were already chattering. “Yeah, yeah, beautiful . . . freezing, but beautiful.” When he looked out over the smaller mountains, he could see that they were as high as clouds.

His teacher seemed unaffected by the cold. “At this temperature, a person can last for thirteen minutes before suffering permanent loss of function.” She stepped back without him noticing. “But you will likely go into shock within the first two minutes.”

Stephen snapped to attention. “What?”

She passed through the portal. “Surrender, Stephen.”

“No, no, _wait!_ ” But she was already gone.

 _Oh, fuck this WHOLE thing!_ Stephen held his hands up, desperately drawing a circle in the air, but to no avail. _I wish . . ._

He thought of flying with Tony, the wind in his hair, the solid strength of the Iron Man suit beneath or on top of him. Sometimes flying felt like falling, leaving them to the mercies of the wind and air. 

But if he let go, Tony would catch him. If he let himself, everything would be okay. 

Stephen let go. 

* * *

. . . and fell forward onto the courtyard, his whole body shaking like a leaf in the wind.

* * *

“You did well today,” Mordo said, smiling slightly as they walked through the halls of Kamar-Taj. “You should get some rest.”

Stephen chuckled. “Well, it won’t do me any good, but thanks.”

Mordo frowned, seeming to notice the dark circles under Stephen’s eyes. “How do you sleep?”

“I don’t sleep.”

“What do you mean you _don’t sleep_?”

Stephen sighed, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”

“I swear I don’t care that much.”

Stephen gave him a dirty look. Unfortunately, he yawned too much for it to be intimidating. “I’m just . . . not used to sleeping alone. Tony and I have shared a bed for over eight years. Before, we’d only ever been apart for a few nights, and it didn’t matter as much. Now I only get a few hours of _spectacularly_ unrestful sleep, then I give up and meditate.” He paused, getting an idea. “You wouldn’t happen to know a spell to help me sleep, would you?”

“I _do_ , but the mind is a notoriously tricky and fragile thing. I would not want to risk doing more harm than good.”

Stephen sighed, exhausted. “Great.”

Mordo hesitated, seeming more awkward than Stephen had ever seen him. “Perhaps I can . . . help in another way.”

Stephen stared at him before saying, “You’re gonna have to be _way_ less cryptic than that.”

"I was merely going to suggest . . ." Faced with the horrifying prospect of putting his thoughts into words, Mordo seemed much less eager to talk (a feeling Stephen could relate to). ". . . perhaps sleeping alongside someone else would alleviate the problem."

They stared at each other.

"Someone else like . . . you?"

"Platonically, of course," Mordo hurried to assure him.

"Right, of course. I'm engaged to Tony." _Hopefully._

"Exactly. I would not want to put you in an awkward position, but you seem so tired."

Stephen normally wouldn’t have considered saying yes, but he normally slept. “Sure.”

* * *

As promised, Stephen called Tony before he went to bed, wearing one of his AC/DC shirts (well, that part wasn’t promised). 

“Y’know, eventually I’m going to figure out where you are based on when you call me.”

“And what makes you think I’m going to sleep at a normal time? Or that I’m not purposefully calling at the wrong time to mess you up?”

A beat passed before Tony muttered, “Goddamnit . . .”

Stephen smirked before Tony asked, “Why is it taking so long?”

Stephen sighed. “It’s a very complicated and experimental process. Everything has to go perfectly. Trying to rush it could end up making things worse.”

Tony didn’t say anything, but Stephen could tell he was growing frustrated. “The sooner you’re home, the better.”

“Yeah,” Stephen said awkwardly. “I have to go, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Right,” Tony said, his voice tight.

Stephen hung up. 

Mordo joined him in his room a few minutes later, dressed down in a thin shirt and sleep pants. They made idle small talk before Mordo asked, “Are you sure you don’t want me to leave?”

Stephen sat on his bed with his legs crossed. “At this point, I’m tired enough to try anything.”

It was awkward at first. The bed was almost too small to fit them both. Stephen lay on his side, facing his teacher. 

Mordo fell asleep first. He snored lightly, but was otherwise still. He was the complete opposite of Tony, who was silent, but always ended up spreading his limbs out over the mattress before wrapping Stephen in his arms. It was more like when he was a child and would lie in a pile in the den with Victor and Donna, falling asleep to the sound of a movie still playing on TV. And when he thought of it that way, it didn’t seem so bad. More innocent, almost familial, and less like a betrayal. He managed to relax some. 

But he still couldn’t sleep.

* * *

Stephen came back from getting ready in the bathroom to see Mordo waking up. Stephen leaned against the door. “Well, that didn’t work. I don’t think I got more than two hours of sleep.”

Mordo was still sleep-brained. He only nodded and said, “Oh,” with a slight frown. 

“Yeah. Don’t worry, I’ll figure something else out.”

“Of course.”

Stephen was already thinking of things he might try — the books he’d seen on astral projection might have something — and did not notice the look on his friend’s face.

* * *

Tony closed his eyes and listened to the soft piano music playing. _“Try to remember the kind of September, when grass was green . . .”_

The singing stopped, but the music went on. He remembered Stephen had played that song once. Tony asked him never to again.

He let himself disassociate from what was happening. He’d memorized the scene over twenty years ago, playing it over and over in his head. 

It was only towards the end, when it all changed, that he listened in. 

_“He does miss you when you are not here. And frankly, you're going to miss us. Because this is the last time we're all going to be together. You know what's about to happen. Say something. If you don't, you'll regret it.”_

And wasn’t that the truth?

_“I love you, Dad. And I know you did the best you could.”_

Tony opened his eyes. 

When he stepped forward, he only had a moment to take in his mother’s appearance — her neat, elegant outfit, soft blonde hair, and sad eyes — before she and Howard were gone once more. 

“That's how I wished it happened,” Tony said, stepping forward. “Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing, or BARF — God, I gotta work on that acronym — an extremely costly method of hijacking the hippocampus to clear traumatic memories.” He blew on a simulated candle, and the holograms shimmered blue before starting to dissolve. “It doesn't change the fact that they never made it to the airport, or all the things I did to avoid processing my grief, but . . . also, six-hundred and eleven million dollars for my little therapeutic experiment? No one in the right mind would've ever funded it.”

By the time he finished speaking, the holograms were gone completely, leaving only a few white frames of things to be projected on — a bench, a table . . . a piano.

Tony looked out the crowd of MIT students. “Help me out, what's the MIT mission statement? ‘To—” the students spoke in time to him “—generate, disseminate and preserve knowledge.’ _And_ work with others to bring it to bear on the world's great challenges. Well, _you_ are the others. And, quiet as it's kept, the challenges facing you are the greatest mankind's ever known. Plus, most of you are broke.” He smiled slightly when the crowd chuckled. “Oh, I'm sorry. Rather, you _were_. As of this moment, _every_ student here has been made an equal recipient of the Inaugural September Foundation Grant. Which is a fancy way to say that all of your projects have just been approved and funded.”

The crowd broke into applause and cheers as Tony continued, bombastic, in his element. “No strings, no taxes, just reframe the future! Starting _now_!” He was almost sad to leave. Now I would like to introduce the head of the foundation: Pepper Potts!” He exited to the sound of adoring cheers, smiling at Pepper as she walked onstage. As soon as she was out of sight, the smile slid from his face.

He ignored the over-excited professor who was rambling at him while he looked for an elevator, soon leaving everyone behind. The hallway was empty except for a woman waiting outside the elevator. Tony stood beside her.

“That was nice,” the woman said quietly, looking at the floor. “What you did for those young people.”

“They deserve it. Plus, it helps ease my conscience.”

“They say there's a correlation between generosity and guilt. But if you've got the money . . ." she faced him, a strange half-smile gracing her face. “Break as many eggs as you like. Right?”

Tony stopped, looked at her. His skin prickled. The elevator button was unlit. He pressed it, watching her. “Are you going up?”

She stared at him. “I'm right where I want to be.” She reached into her handbag.

Instinctively, Tony’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. She started, looking at him. Tony hesitantly let go. “Sorry. Occupational hazard.”

She didn’t acknowledge his misstep, nor his apology. When she spoke, her voice was raspy and her eyes were wet. “I work for the State Department. Human Resources. I know it's boring. But it enabled me to raise a son. And I'm very proud of what he grew up to be.” She shoved a photo at his chest. “His name was Charlie Spencer.” Her voice wavered. “You murdered him in Sokovia.”

Tony froze, one hand moving of its own accord to hold the picture to him. 

“Not that it matters in the least to you. You think you fight for us? You just fight for yourself.”

Tony didn’t notice how he shook his head, just the tiniest amount. His hands felt cold and numb.

“Who's going to avenge my son, Stark?”

She turned and walked away, leaving him frozen in the hall.

* * *

Stephen was studying when Tony called.

Of course, he was studying in his astral form while his body slept, so it took him a moment to answer. 

Stephen yawned when he was back in his own skin, absently rubbing his freshly-shaved face and the neat goatee there before picking up his phone. “Tony?”

It took him a moment to answer. “Hey, Stephen. I’m sorry for calling . . . I think it’s probably late where you are? But I just . . . really need to talk to you.”

Stephen sat up, frowning. “What’s wrong? Are you having a panic attack?”

Tony laughed harshly. “No, not yet. But . . . did you hear about what happened in Lagos the other day?”

Stephen nodded before remembering Tony couldn’t see him. “Yeah. It’s horrible. But you weren’t there, right?”

“No, no, I wasn’t. But something else just happened today at MIT and . . . it’s a lot, isn’t it? It feels like a lot.”

“Tony, tell me what happened.” He tried to make his voice soothing. 

Tony had to stop to take a breath. Stephen could tell he was teetering on the edge of another attack. “I met a woman whose son . . . her son died in Sokovia.”

Stephen closed his eyes, his hands clenching painfully. “Tony . . . Do you need me to come there? I can come back for a few days if it’s that bad.”

“ _No._ No, you just . . . focus on getting well. But Stephen . . . I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing. I just— I don’t want anyone to get hurt anymore.”

“You’ve always tried to protect everyone,” Stephen said quietly. “And you’re not the type to give up easily, are you?”

“I know, but Stephen, what do I do? Tell me what to do.”

It took a moment for him to answer. “Do whatever you have to.”

* * *

Tony had known about the accords for a while now. He hadn’t spoken to the others about them, but he assumed they knew. It was all over the news and the internet. So he wasn’t terribly surprised when Ross called him about speaking to the Avengers, even if he knew it probably wouldn’t go well.

They gathered at the compound. Even Sam and Rhodey showed up, though he can’t imagine anyone wanted to sit and listen to Ross speak for any amount of time. 

Tony sat in a corner as Ross monologued. “The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives. But while a great many people see you as heroes, there are _some_ who would prefer the word ‘vigilantes’.”

“And what word would you use, Mister Secretary?” Nat asked, with that sly half-smile she said she found this all very amusing and potentially useful for later.

“How about ‘dangerous’?” Ross said, looking at her. “What would you call a group of _US-based_ , _enhanced_ individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders, and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?”

Natasha did not respond.

Ross turned, activating the clear screen that stood behind him. “New York.” 

Tony closed his eyes, unable to watch as a leviathan flew through the city and the Hulk jumped from building to building, unleashing hundreds of pounds of stone on whatever happened to be underneath. Terrified screams echoed in his ears.

Ross changed the video. “Washington DC.” The Insight helicarriers fell into the river below. Waves engulfed citizens along the banks and the bridges that stood over the river, drawing them in. Tony knew they were still working on the cleanup from that, finding both pollution from the hellicarriers and bodies from the fallout.

“Sokovia.”

Huge chunks of rock and building fell from the flying city to what was left on the ground, crushing everything beneath them. This time, Tony couldn’t look away. 

“Lagos.” The building was burning, alarms sounding through the city. First responders pulled out the survivors on stretchers, leaving the dead for later. 

Wanda looked away, unable to face them. 

Steve looked at her, then Ross. “That's enough.”

Ross nodded slightly, turning off the screen before stepping back and speaking. “For the past four years, you've operated with unlimited power and _no supervision_. That's an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution.” An assistant handed him a thick document, which he in turn placed in front of Wanda. “The Sokovia Accords. Approved by one hundred and seventeen countries, it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they'll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary.”

So far, Steve hadn’t spoken again, eyes studying the table. Now, he looked at Ross. “The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place. I feel we've done that.”

Ross didn’t seem impressed. “Tell me, Captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now?”

Steve looked up, but didn’t answer.

“If _I_ misplaced a couple of thirty megaton nukes, you can bet there'd be consequences. _Compromise_. _Reassurance_. That's how the world works. Believe me, this _is_ the middle ground.” His back straightened the slightest bit. “Three days from now, the UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords. Talk it over.”

He started to walk out, but Nat stopped him by asking, “And if we come to a decision you don't like?”

Ross stopped. “Then you retire.”

Natasha resisted a smile.

* * *

Tony stayed in his corner, ignoring the others and covering his face with a hand. Sam and Rhodey were arguing while Steve looked at the copy of the Accords that Ross had given them. 

Vision (who looked really weird wearing people clothes, but whatever) interrupted the argument. “I have an equation.”

Sam smiled. “Oh, this will clear it up.”

Everyone turned to listen to Vision. Tony slightly moved his hand so one eye could see. “In the eight years since Mister Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate.”

Steve looked up from the document. “Are you saying it's our fault?”

“I'm saying there may be a causality. Our very strength _invites_ challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict . . . breeds catastrophe. Oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.”

“Boom,” Rhodey said, looking at Sam. 

“Tony,” Nat said, looking at him, “you’re being uncharacteristically non-hyperverbal.”

Steve followed her eyes. “It's because he's already made up his mind.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Good thing you know me so well.” He sat up, wincing from the pain at the back of his head. “Actually, I'm nursing an electromagnetic headache.” He walked over to the adjoining kitchen, grabbing one of Stephen’s mugs that had somehow ended up at the compound. “That's what's going on, Cap. It's just _pain_. It's just discomfort. And who's putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?”

The others only looked at him.

Tony put his mug and the coffee press down, taking out his phone and projecting the photo, pretending not to notice it at first. “Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way. He's a great kid. Computer engineering degree, three-point-six GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn't want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn't go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. _He_ decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, _Sokovia_.”

He didn’t look at the others, didn’t see them, though he was sure they had plenty to say. “He wanted to make a difference, I _suppose_. I mean, we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kickin’ ass.” He took one of his anxiety pills with a sip of coffee. _See Stephen, I can take them without you here to remind me._ “There's no decision-making process here.” He stood in front of the counter, facing them. “We need to be put in check. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less, we're no better than the bad guys.”

“Tony,” Steve said slowly, “if someone dies on your watch, you don't give up.”

“This isn’t giving up.”

“It is if we’re not taking responsibility for our actions. This just shifts the blame.”

Tony turned, unable to respond to the stupidity of that.

As always, Rhodey had his back. “Steve, that is . . . _dangerously_ arrogant. This is the _United Nations_ we're talking about. It's not the World Security Council, it's not Shield, it's not _Hydra_.”

“No, but it's run by people with agendas, and agendas change.”

“ _That’s_ what people are scared of,” Tony pointed out, rejoining the group. “So far we’ve fought aliens and robots and Nazis, but none of them know when that might change. All they want is the assurance that _our_ agenda won’t change.”

“Tony, if we sign this, we surrender _our_ right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don't think we should go? What if there is somewhere we need to go, and they don't let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.”

“Steve, people are _dead!_ ” Tony shouted, startling himself and ignoring Wanda’s wince. “It doesn’t matter if it was an accident, it’s still our fault! Preventing anyone else from getting hurt has to be our number one priority, and unlike some people, I don’t believe that letting us run around doing whatever we want is the best way to do that!”

“Maybe Tony’s right,” Nat said, surprising everyone. “This is happening whether we want it to or not. If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off . . .”

“Aren't you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?” Sam asked, incredulous.

“I'm just . . . I'm reading the terrain. We have made some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back.”

“I'm not sorry,” Tony said, “but did I just mishear you, or did you agree with me?”

“Oh, I want to take it back now,” Nat said, looking like she was regretting every decision she’d ever made.

“Nope, you can’t retract it. Okay, case closed, I win.”

It took him a moment to notice Steve staring at his phone. 

* * *

Stephen didn’t jump when Mordo tapped his shoulder. He was getting used to the way the other sorcerers moved silently when they wanted to, which for the most part seemed to be used to prank him. Wong enjoyed it. To be fair though, Stephen _did_ keep taking his books.

Mordo leaned next to him. “Why are you staring at your phone?”

“I’m not,” Stephen lied. 

Mordo did not seem amused by the implication that he was blind, and also an idiot.

Stephen sighed, holding up his phone as though it were the cause of all his problems. “I was supposed to get married today. Do— do you think he's thinking about it?”

“I don’t know,” Mordo said, because apparently he was even worse at comforting people than Stephen. “And neither will you if you don’t speak to him.”

 _Oh, that is literally exactly what I DIDN’T want to hear._ “But what if he’s busy, or he doesn’t want to talk to me—” 

“Stephen.” Mordo put a hand over the phone and pushed it to his friend’s chest. “Call him.” 

He left before Stephen could come up with another excuse.

Stephen stared at his phone before sighing and calling Tony.

* * *

Rhodey knocked on the door. “Tones?” He came in after a second with no response. “Are you—”

Tony sat at the dining table, his phone by his hand as he stared at Stephen’s spot across from him. 

There was a bottle of whiskey on the table.

Tony held the bottle out to Rhodey. “I didn’t open it.” 

Rhodey hesitantly took it, looking down at his friend. There were dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he’d aged ten years in the few days since he’d seen him. Stephen’s blue dressing robe hung limp around him. 

Rhodey hesitantly reached out to him. “Tony—”

Tony silently picked up his phone, playing a voicemail. _“Hey, Tony. I was thinking of you. Thought I’d give you a call. But you’re probably busy. Or maybe you just don’t want to talk to me . . . which I, y’know, understand. If that’s what you’re doing . . . Uh . . . not really sure what to say . . . I miss you. I know I haven’t really shown it, but I do miss you, and I . . . I love you. And, I want to see you, if you want to see me. Probably take a while. I’m not . . . done here. I still don’t actually know how long I’ll be here . . . I’m doing better though, it's working, so that's good . . . and you could maybe visit, or I could visit you, I don’t know. I guess . . . call me back, if you want. Love you. Bye.”_

Tony set the phone to the side, his hand shaking, so slight most people wouldn’t notice it. “You know this is the longest Stephen and I have been apart since Afghanistan?”

"Yeah. I know."

“He said he wouldn’t leave.” Tony’s voice was raw and rough and _angry_. “How do you promise someone everything and then turn around and _stop caring?!_ ”

“He didn’t, Tony. It’s just—” 

“Just _what_ , Rhodey?! God, I just— I hate him so much! I hate him and I wish he was here! Why isn’t he _here?!_ Am I . . . what did I do that he decided he doesn’t love me anymore? I just want him _here_.” Tony’s breathing was harsh and labored by the end, and Rhodey could tell he was about to start crying. 

Rhodey wrapped his arms around Tony from behind, trying to comfort his oldest friend. “Tones—”

“Boss,” Friday said, voice urgent, “I hate to interrupt you, but there’s an emergency in Vienna. The United Nations meeting was bombed. Captain Rogers’s friend James Barnes is the suspect.”

Rhodey looked up sharply, wondering how the hell everything was falling apart at the same time.

Tony . . . Tony just looked tired. “Fri, get a jet ready.”

* * *

“Tell me about him.” 

Stephen rolled on his side, looking at Mordo. It was becoming common for them to lay on the floor and speak about nothing and everything. Stephen enjoyed it, even though it made him sad to think of how much their conversations reminded him of staying up late to have whispered conversations with Donna, scarfing down ice cream and turning the TV to the lowest volume.

“What do you want to know?”

“What do you want to tell me?”

Stephen distractedly played with the sleeve of his red tunic as he spoke. “We were a disaster when we first met. Never able to put up with each for more than a few months. We used to yell and scream and fuck in that order. I was always leaving. Never him.” Stephen laughed bitterly. “I guess not much has really changed.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true. Don’t look at me like that. I complained constantly, but honestly, I loved it. It felt good, making him beg and grovel for scraps. Just knowing that I could do that to a man like him. Felt powerful."

Mordo leaned closer, almost involuntarily. "What changed?"

Stephen smiled, surprising even himself his wistfulness. "I fell in love. And Tony was . . . intense. He never pretended to be anything other than what he was, no matter how much people hated him for it, and a lot of people did. And I was drawn to him because of that. I could never do that when I was younger. I could with him. We were . . . equals. I never felt like I was _less_ than him before . . .” He held up his scarred, shaky hands in explanation. “Now . . . Tony deserves someone better than me. Someone who's brave and kind, who treats him with all the love he deserves. Someone who doesn't fuck up their own life like a goddamned idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot. You’re one of the smartest people I know.”

“I’m a coward. I won’t speak to him more than I have to, won’t show my face or tell him the truth. How can I even _think_ of facing Tony after how I treated him?”

“You’re not a coward, Stephen. But I do think you’re scared to face him. Because if you do, it will be real and you won’t be able to avoid it anymore.”

Stephen frowned. “Kind of sounds like a coward—” 

“I don’t think so. I think you sound like someone who is scared of hurting another, and scared of hurting himself.”

Stephen pushed off his arm, lying on his back and looking up at the ceiling, decorated by pictures of constellations. “Do you know that my biggest fear isn't aliens or monsters? I've gotten used to those. No, my greatest fear is that one day Tony is going to find someone who's better than me. Smarter. More handsome, younger. Someone with a softer heart. And he'll love them more than me.”

“Stephen—”

“This always ends one of two ways in my head. The first one is the way I think it would happen: he'll love them, yes, but he'll feel too guilty about it. He won't leave for my sake. And for a while, things will be okay. But then he'll start wondering 'what if’, and then he'll resent me, and eventually hate me. He won’t leave, though. Tony doesn’t run.”

“The second way seems less likely, but just as painful. Because he still feels guilty, but he goes anyway. He falls in love with someone else, and they love him too, and they're _perfect_ together. So he goes, and he leaves me alone, hating myself, wondering why I ever thought I could be good enough for him. But no matter how it goes, he's always the one who leaves. I could never let him go, not even if we were both miserable.”

* * *

Barnes was brought in soon after Tony arrived in Berlin. Granted, they’d only accomplished it after Rogers and his little friends tore through half of Romania, but that was _fine_.

“No, Romania was _not_ Accords-sanctioned,” Tony said to Ross over the phone, exasperated as he saw Nat coming in with Steve and Sam. “And, Colonel Rhodes is supervising cleanup . . . Consequences? You bet there'll be consequences. _Obviously_ you can quote me on that, 'cause I just _said it._ Anything else? No. Thank you.”

Steve and Sam had stopped walking, listening to him. “Consequences?” Steve asked, the slightest hint of a smile gracing his lips. 

Tony, remembering how he was in the middle of a breakdown when he got the call, just barely kept himself from punching Steve in the dick. “Secretary Ross wants you both prosecuted. Had to give him something.” Tony, with a thousand other things to do, walked away. 

“I'm not getting that shield back, am I?” Steve asked, still smiling, like this was all a _game_ , like he and Barnes hadn’t endangered innocent lives with their little game of cat and mouse, like people weren’t _in the hospital_ —

“Technically, it's the government's property,” Nat pointed out, cutting off Tony’s train of thought and walking with him. “Wings, too.”

“That’s cold,” Sam said.

“Warmer than jail.” Tony didn’t look back.

* * *

Tony found him looking out on the control room. 

Tony held in his frustration. He was still annoyed with Steve, but he liked to think they were friends. He didn’t want to see him gone. 

“Wanna see something cool?” Tony held up a small box as Steve turned to look at him. “I pulled it from Dad's archives. Felt timely.” They sat down at the conference table that dominated the room. Tony opened the box and set it in front of him, showing off the old-fashioned fountain pens. “FDR signed the Lend-Lease bill with these in 1941. Provided support to the Allies when they needed it most.”

Steve lightly traced the edge of the box. “Some would say it brought our country closer to war.”

Tony mentally counted to five before speaking. “If not for these, you wouldn't be here. I'm trying to . . . what do you call it? An olive branch. I’m trying to make peace.”

Steve side-stepped that. “Is Stephen here? I haven’t seen him since . . .” _Since he kicked you out and took you off the guest list and refused to have you around._

“No,” Tony said hesitantly. “I don’t know if you heard, but Stephen was in a car accident. His hands were . . . he’s seeking treatment.” _If it’s of anything, he doesn’t want me around right now either._

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Steve said, subdued. “I didn’t know.”

Tony didn’t look at him directly when he spoke. “Y’know, Stephen and I . . . I feel like we’ve almost lost each other a hundred times because I keep inviting danger into our lives. Now I’m sitting alone in the tower wondering if this is the thing that’s gonna break us. I don’t want to lose him. More than anything, I don’t want to lose him.” He stood up, unable to take the tension. “In his defense, I’m a handful. But Dad was a pain in the ass, but he and Mom always made it work.”

“I'm glad Howard got married,” Steve said, probably because that was the easiest thing from Tony’s spiel to respond to. “I only knew him when he was young and single.”

“Oh, really, you two knew each other?” Tony asked in an exaggerated tone. “He never mentioned that. Maybe only a _thousand_ times. God, I hated you.”

Steve turned his puppy-dog eyes on him. “I don't mean to make things difficult.”

“Oh, I know, because you’re a very polite person.”

Steve shook his head slightly. “If I see a situation pointed south . . . I can't ignore it. Sometimes I wish I could.”

“No, you don’t.”

Steve smiled wryly, ducking his head. “No, I don’t. Sometimes—”

“Sometimes I wanna punch you in your perfect teeth. But I don't wanna see you gone. We need you, Cap. So far, nothing's happened that can't be undone, if you sign.” He pointedly looked at the pens. "We can make the last twenty-four hours legit. Barnes gets transferred to an American psych-center instead of a Wakandan prison.”

Steve turned away from, thoughtfully looking at the pens before picking one up. “I'm not saying it's impossible. But there would have to be safeguards.”

“Of course. Once we put out the PR fire, those documents can be amended. I'd file a motion to have you and Wanda reinstated—”

“Wanda?” Steve said, stopping him in his tracks. “What about Wanda?”

 _Shit._ “She's fine. She's confined to the compound, currently. Vision's keeping her company.”

Steve screwed up his face, immediately undoing their progress. “Oh God, Tony! Every time, _every time_ I think you see things the right way—”

“It is a _hundred acres_ , with a lap pool and a home theatre, there are worse ways to protect people.”

“ _Protection?_ This is _internment_ , Tony!”

“This is not just about protecting _her_ , Steve! Or did you forget Lagos like you’re hoping everyone else will?” 

Steve scoffed, turning away. 

“This isn’t something we can avoid, Steve. People are angry and a lot of people want her in prison right now. If someone who feels that way just saw her walking down the street and decided to start something, and she loses control or reacts badly, then people could get hurt _again_ , people could _die_ , _again!_ And if that happens, she’s not going to be allowed to sit at home.”

“That wouldn’t happen!”

“It already _DID!_ ” Tony snapped, hurting his throat from the sudden scream. “I am doing this — _all_ of this — to stave off something worse.”

Steve shook his head. “Keep telling yourself that.” He put the pen down. “Hate to break up the set.”

Tony watched him leave, spinning his chair around and putting on a pair of rose-tinted glasses.

* * *

_Fuck, fuck, fuck—_

Tony and Nat quickly walked through the darkened halls. Only emergency lights were on, turning everything blue, though at least the power outage meant that they didn’t have to listen to the emergency sirens. 

“ _Please_ tell me you brought a suit,” Nat said through gritted teeth.

“Sure did,” Tony snarked. “It's a lovely Tom Ford, three-piece, two-button, I'm an _active-duty_ _non-combatant_.”

Before Nat could reply, Sharon Carter ran past them. “Follow me.”

And well, that seemed like as good a plan as any.

They found Barnes in what looked like the cafeteria, fighting (well, beating the asses of) the guards that met him there. Tony got in position behind a pillar, activating his watch. It transformed into a red-and-silver metal glove that fit over his hand. 

The first two blasts were made to stun, giving Tony time to get close and letting the guards retreat. But before he could fire again, Barnes grabbed his arm, diverting Tony’s attempts to take his gun from him, once almost managing to shoot Tony in the face if he hadn’t used the emergency glove to block the bullet, shaking him. He smirked, just pulling the gun barrel loose before Barnes threw him back into a chair, sending shocks of pain through his spine. 

Within seconds, Sharon and Nat rushed Barnes, each of them managing to land a few good strikes before Barnes threw Sharon on a table and tried to choke Nat to death. Nat said something to him, but T’Challa came out of fucking _nowhere_ , striking hard and fast, every movement graceful. He still fell, but was up within seconds, although by that point Barnes was already running upstairs. 

T’Challa tried to catch him there, and seemed to have it for a moment while Tony and Nat tried to get up there, still pained themselves. But then Barnes was thrown over a railing, and when they got to where he’d fallen, he was gone.

* * *

“I don't suppose you have any idea where they are?” Ross asked, sauntering in. 

It was bad enough that Sam, Steve, and Barnes had gone missing, but now he had to put up with Ross? The universe was asking too much of him. “GSG-9's got the borders covered. Recon's flying 24/7. They'll get a hit. We'll handle it.”

“It’s no longer yours to handle. It's clear you can't be objective. I'm putting Special Ops on this.”

“What happens when the shooting starts?” Nat asked, going still. “What, do you kill Steve?”

“If we're provoked. Barnes would've been eliminated in Romania if it wasn't for Rogers. There are dead people who would be alive now. Feel free to check my math.”

Tony was _beyond angry_ at Steve, but the last thing he wanted was for anything to happen to him or Sam. They were still, for reasons even he didn’t understand, his friends. “All due respect, you're not going to solve this with bullets, Ross. You gotta let us bring them in.”

“And how would that end any differently from the last time?”

“Because this time, I won't be wearing loafers and a silk shirt. Between all of us, we have enough firepower to bring them in _without_ killing anyone within seventy-two hours, guaranteed.”

Ross hesitated a moment before saying, “Thirty-six hours. Barnes, Rogers, and Wilson, or else it won’t be up to you.”

Ross left Nat and Tony alone, both of them slumped over a table, already tired. Tony rubbed his aching chest. “My left arm is numb, is that normal?”

Nat stood, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You alright?”

He had a black eye and a cut on his face, and he’d been half-dead ever since he found Stephen in his car. “Always.”

Nat didn’t probe deeper, taking her hand back. “We’re understaffed.”

Tony smiled, wondering how his life had devolved into this. “Be real great if we had a Hulk right about now.”

“Or even just a god of thunder.” The corner of her mouth perked. “But I have an idea.”

“Yeah? Me too.”

* * *

Stephen wasn’t quite sure how it happened, and probably never would be. One moment, he and Mordo had been laughing, looking out on the Himalayas and leaning into each other. The next, he had his hands up, holding Mordo back, though he was close enough that Stephen felt his breaths.

He wondered how he hadn’t seen it, if years of being Tony’s had blinded him to other people. 

But he could do it.

It almost seemed like another person’s thought, like he was watching from the outside and considering the possibilities with no personal investment. It would certainly be easier. He could cut ties with the past entirely, focus on building a new life at Kamar-Taj and never look back. He could see himself caring for Mordo. And he wouldn't have to apologize to Tony or beg his forgiveness. He would never have to look at the damage he caused.

But he couldn’t see himself loving him. When he thought of love, there was only one thing in his mind.

“Mordo . . . you’re my friend. I don’t know where I’d be without you. But I love Tony.”

He could not even bring himself to be sorry about a lost future. He already knew what he wanted, even if it no longer wanted him.

Mordo nodded, sitting back. He looked away.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Mordo shook his head, smiling sadly. “No you’re not.”

Stephen thought about it before nodding. “I’m not.”

* * *

“This is great, May,” Tony said, taking another bite of the walnut loaf. “Absolutely delicious.”

“I’m glad you like it,” May said, still seeming somewhat awkward, but clearly trying to hide it. “Can I get you something to drink? Water or—”

The door to the tiny Queens apartment opened, and the man (infant) of the hour arrived. 

. . . Didn’t seem to notice the superhero sitting on his couch, though.

“Hey, May,” Peter Parker said, not paying attention to the living room as he sat a DVD player and backpack on the dining table, absently pulling out an earbud.

“Hey, Peter,” May said. “How was school today?”

“It was okay,” he said, turning to see her. “There’s this crazy car . . . parked . . .”

Tony casually looked up from his walnut loaf. “Oh, Mister Parker.”

“Um . . .” Peter, not quite knowing what else to do, took out his other earbud. “What- what are you- hey, I’m, I’m Peter.”

“Tony,” Tony said, helpfully indicating to himself.

“Yeah, but, what are . . . what are you doing here?”

“It's about time we met. You've been getting my e-mails, right?” Tony winked, then winked again to make sure he got the message. 

“Uh . . .” Peter looked Tony, then at his aunt, then back. “Yeah. Yeah, totally, regarding the . . .”

“The September Foundation.”

“Right.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the grant? You keeping secrets from me now?” May asked.

Peter looked so awkward, Tony had to save him. “He probably just didn’t want to get your hope’s up. But, I approved, so now we’re in business.”

“Yeah, it’s just, it’s great . . . anyway, what did I apply for?”

 _Wow, he’s bad at this._ “That’s why I’m here. Hash out the details.”

“Yeah, that makes . . . that makes sense.”

“Course. May, do you mind if I talk to him alone for five minutes?”

“Sure. Be our guest.”

“Great. Peter, if you could just—”

Peter, who by that point seemed kind of out of it, jerked to attention, muttering ‘yeah’ a few times and showing Tony to his bedroom. 

As soon as they were alone, Tony locked the door and spit out the walnut loaf into a trashcan. “Huh. Y’know, as far was walnut date loaves can go, that actually wasn’t so bad.” He ignored Peter, who was looking more confused and anxious by the second, in favor of the collection of old computers that decorated his desk. “Ooh, retro tech. Where’d you get this, thrift store, salvation army?”

“Uh . . .” Peter’s hands played with the zipper on his jacket. “Garbage, actually.”

“Pragmatic.”

“Yeah, well, I just . . . uh . . . I, I definitely did not apply for your grant.”

“Razor-sharp memory, this one. But, quick question of the rhetorical variety.” Tony held up his phone, showing the video of Peter in an unimpressive red-and-blue costume, swinging through a street with what looked like spiderwebs. “That’s you, right?”

“No,” Peter said quickly. “What, what do you mean? I don’t even—”

“Yeah, it is.” He changed the video, showing Peter stopping a car from hitting a bus. “Wow! Three thousand pounds, forty miles an hour. That’s not easy.”

“But that’s all on Youtube, right?” Peter said, trying to brush past him. “I mean, that’s where you saw that? Because that’s all fake. It’s done on . . . computers.”

“Ah, yes, these mysterious _interwebs_ that I’ve heard so much about. But y’know, I’m just an old man, I don’t know about any of those newfangled—” he picked up an old-looking baseball bat that Peter had lying against his bed— “ _technologies_ or anything.” He poked the very obvious square door in the ceiling, dropping the spider costume down on a rope. “Whoops, my bad.”

Peter quickly grabbed the suit, trying to hide it behind him. “Uh . . . that’s just my . . . theatre . . . costume.”

Tony ignored him. “So, you’re the . . . Spiderling? Crime-fighting Spider? You're Spider-Boy?”

Peter looked down awkwardly, arms crossed. “Spider— Spider-Man.”

“Not in that onesie, you’re not,” Tony said, picking up the suit when Peter moved to try to avoid his eyes.

“It’s not a _onesie_.” 

“‘Course not. Who else knows?”

It took a moment for Peter to admit, “Nobody.”

“Really? Not even your unusually attractive aunt?”

“No, _no_ , definitely not. She would freak out, then I would freak out, and it would be this . . . whole thing.”

Tony shrugged, looking at the webshooters. “Probably. But you know what I think is really cool? This webbing?”

Peter sighed, not bothering to look when he caught the small bottle of web formula when Tony tossed it to him. “Thanks.”

“The tensile strength is off the charts. Did you make that?”

“Yeah, but climbing walls? How’d you do that?” There didn’t seem to be anything in or on the onesie to do that, although those _goggles_ . . . 

“That’s . . . kind of a weird story . . .”

“ _Lordy_ , can you even _see_ in these?” Tony asked, holding the goggles up to his eyes. 

“Yes!” Peter snatched the onesie back. “Yes, I can, I just . . . whatever happened, it made my senses all . . . it’s like they’re constantly dialed to eleven, so the goggles just help me focus.”

Tony shrugged. “That’s good and all, but you’re in _dire_ need of an upgrade. Systematic, top to bottom. That’s part of why I’m here. But I gotta know . . . why are you doing this? What’s your MO? What compels a twelve-year-old to get out of a twin bed in the morning and fight crime?”

“I’m fifteen.”

“Acknowledged.”

Peter sat on his bed, his hands absently moving, in constant motion. “I’ve been me my whole life, but I’ve had these powers for six months. And I read books, and I build computers, and I do everything else I’ve ever done . . . and I would like to play football or something, but if I couldn’t then, I shouldn’t now.”

“Because you’re different.”

“Exactly! But I can't tell anybody that, so I'm not, not entirely. But when you can do the things that I can, but you don't . . .” He struggled to find the words. “Then when bad things happen, they happen because of you.”

Tony hadn’t realized he’d leaned forward, listening so intently that he stopped thinking for the first time in months. He sat back, trying to pull himself together. “So you wanna do your part. Look out for the little guy, make the world a better place. Right?”

“Yeah, just- just helping people. That’s what I want to do.”

Tony nodded slowly. They sat in silence for a moment before he asked, “Got a passport?”

* * *

First, they got the airport evacuated. Annoying, since Steve would know they were there, but necessary if they were to prevent any further casualties. Guards had already died when Barnes broke out, not to mention the officers from Bucharest who were in the hospital with head and spine injures who might never recover. Tony absently rubbed his hand, thinking of Stephen’s scars.

Tony snapped out of it when Rhodey told him they had eyes on Steve and the others, trying to get to a helicopter. “Gumdrop, you coming with me?”

“Where else would I be?” Rhodey shot back, his faceplate coming up.

Tony half-smiled. 

The helicopter was easily disabled with a single shot, shocking Steve who looked up at them. A moment later, they landed on the ground. 

Tony casually lowered his faceplate. “Wow, it's so weird how you run into people at the airport. Don't you think that's weird?”

“Definitely weird,” Rhodey said, his helmet still up.

“Hear me out, Tony,” Steve said, awfully calm for someone who’d gone from hero to criminal in a day. “That doctor, the psychiatrist, he's behind all of this.”

Tony didn’t believe for a second that he was doing anything other than getting Barnes out of trouble, and he wasn’t exactly interested in hearing it.

T’Challa, in his vibranium fursuit, lept over a truck, making Steve take a step back before saying. “Captain.”

Steve respectfully inclined his head. “Your Highness.”

Tony, wanting to avoid a fight if possible, said, “Ross gave me thirty-six hours to bring you in twenty-four hours ago. Help a brother out?”

Steve was as stubborn as ever. “You’re after the wrong guy.”

“See, I don’t think I am. I think your judgment is skewed. Your old war buddy killed innocent people yesterday.”

“And there are five more super soldiers like him. I can't let the doctor find them first, Tony.”

By that point, Tony was pretty sure he was either talking out of his ass or repeating Barnes’s story. 

“Steve,” Nat said, coming up behind their ally-turned-enemy, silent until she wanted you to know she was there. “You know what's about to happen. Do you really wanna punch your way out of this one?”

Steve didn’t say anything, his jaw stubbornly set.

Tony sighed. “Alright, I've run out of patience. Underoos!”

Peter flipped over the gathering, shooting a web at Steve’s shield and pulling him to it, webbing up the super soldier’s hands before landing on top of a truck in his new, one-hundred percent Stark material suit.

“Nice job, kid,” Tony said.

“Thanks!” Peter said brightly. “I mean, I could've stuck the landing a little better, but with the new suit . . . it's nothing, Mister Stark, it's _perfect_. Thank you.”

“Yeah, we don't really need to start a conversation.”

“Okay,” Peter said quietly. “Hi, Cap- Captain. I’m Spider-Man, big fan. Just, hi everyone.”

“Yeah, you can stop talking now.”

“Right.”

“Good job.”

Steve looked amused. “You’ve been busy.”

“And you’ve been a complete idiot,” Tony snapped, quickly losing his patience. “Dragging in Clint, ‘ _rescuing_ ’ Wanda from the safest place there is for her. _I’m_ trying to—” He stopped, trying to control himself. “I’m trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart.”

“You tore us apart when you signed.”

Tony stared at him, blood boiling. “Alright, we're done. You're going to turn Barnes over, and you're going to come with us, _now_ , because it's _us_ , or a squad of J-SOC guys who won’t worry about being nice.”

Steve looked away, but didn’t speak.

“Come on,” Tony said, almost whispered.

Steve did not respond, looking forward, listening to something. Tony realized too late that something was happening when Steve held his hands up, the webbing shot through an instant later with an arrow.

“Alright, Lang,” Steve said quietly, which honestly, _what?_

Tony brought his helmet back up, but he didn’t even have time to think about it for long before Peter, looking at the shield, said, “Hey, guys, something—”

Something flew up from the shield, smacking Peter in the chin and growing into an unimpressive looking man in a red-and-black leather suit.

“What the hell was that?” Rhodey asked.

The man, wearing a silver helmet with red eyes, stood by Steve, handing him the shield. “I believe this is yours, Captain America.”

Tony sighed. “Oh, great.” He checked his sensors. “Alright, there's two on the parking deck. One of them's Maximoff, I'm gonna grab her.” Tony turned on his boots’ repulsors, flying up. “Rhodey, you want to take Cap?”

“Got two in the terminal,” Rhodey said, “Wilson and Barnes.”

“Barnes is mine!” T’Challa growled, taking off. 

“Hey, Mister Stark, what should I do?” Peter asked while Rhodey and Steve started fighting. 

“What we _discussed_ , keep your distance and web ‘em up, try not to actually fight anyone.”

Tony left Rhodey and T’Challa to fight Steve while Peter went after Barnes and Sam and Nat took care of the new guy (who probably had a name). He used missiles to keep Wanda and Clint caged in a single space, not close enough to hurt, but blowing up anywhere they might have gone. He hovered above them when they finally stopped running, one hand held out ready to blast. “Wanda, I think you hurt Vision's feelings.”

“You locked me in my room.”

Tony almost rolled his eyes. “Okay, first, that's an exaggeration. Second, I did it to protect you. Hey, Clint.”

“Hey, man,” Clint said casually, readying his bow.

“Clearly, retirement doesn't suit you. Get tired of shooting golf?”

“Well, I played eighteen, and shot eighteen.” He shrugged. “Just can't seem to miss.” He fired three arrows, each of which Tony shot down before they could do anything.

“First time for everything.”

Clint smirked. “Made you look.”

Before Tony could even look, a car slammed into his back, followed by a dozen more that Wanda pulled down from the parking garage behind him, burying him in metal. 

“Multiple contusions detected,” Friday said.

Tony groaned painfully. “Yeah, I detected those too.”

It took him a minute to get up. When he had, Steve and the small-guy had just finished trying to blow up Rhodey and Nat, which, _dude_.

“Alright,” Rhodey said, his tone hardening, “ _now_ I’m pissed.”

Tony helped Nat up. 

“Is this part of the plan?” Nat asked, clearly irritated.

“Well, my plan was to go easy on them, do you wanna switch it up?”

Looked like Steve and the others had found the quinjet Tony’s team had taken and were running towards it. But before they could make it, Vision appeared, cutting the runway in front of them with a beam of energy, forcing them to stop. Vision flew above them.

“Captain Rogers,” Vision said, his voice filling the airway. “I know you believe what you're doing is right. But for the collective good, you must surrender now.”

He’d given Tony and the others time to get over there, all of them facing Steve’s team, with Vision slowly coming down to join them. 

Steve and Sam said something to each other, then they started walking towards the other group.

Natasha sighed. “This is gonna end well.” 

Then they were all walking towards each other, like it was a dramatic moment in a movie.

“They’re not stopping,” Peter said when Steve’s team sped up, soon sprinting towards them.

“Neither are we,” Tony said. In an instant, they were all running towards each other, Tony and Rhodey lifting into the air as Sam and Wanda did the same.

When the two groups met, Tony fell down hard on Steve, his punch blocked by the shield. Sam and Rhodey chased each other through the sky while T’Challa pounced on Barnes, Nat went after the normal-sized man, Clint shot at Vision, and Peter tried to web people up from the sidelines. Tony tried to land a blow on Steve, the shield meeting him each time before one of Clint’s explosive arrows pushed him back. He was back a moment later, unable to pay attention to the others as he and Steve both tried to force the other down. 

They ended up getting split up, the entire area a mess of action. He ended up against Wanda, countering her thrown cars while Peter and Steve fought. Only moments later, he was distracted by Sam, flying ahead of him on wings _he_ made for the guy (honestly, no gratitude from these people). He was forced to stop when Clint fired at him, a single arrow that split into several shards that he shot down while Sam got away. 

“Fuck.” Clint kept sending arrows, and Tony kept shooting them down, until his repulsors started flickering. “Friday?”

“We have some weapon systems offline,” Friday said, her point accentuated by the red lights on his screen and the words ‘WEAPONS SYSTEM’ flashing in front of him.

“Oh, you're gonna have to take this into the shop.”

“Who’s. Speaking?” Tony demanded, unable to find the source of the voice, but figuring it must be in his suit. 

“It's your conscience. We don't talk a lot these days.”

“ _Friday._ ”

“Deploying fire suppression system,” the A.I. said helpfully.

“Uh oh,” the voice said, apparently coming face-to-face with the chemicals rolling through the suit mechanics. A few seconds later, something small and annoying was ejected from the suit in a cloud of chemicals.

Before he could rejoin the fight, he and Friday had to get the weapons back online. Then— _WHY._

The tiny annoying man was now a _very_ large annoying man, standing in the middle of the runway and holding Rhodey by the leg.

“Okay!” Rhodey said over the comms. “Tiny dude is big now, he’s big now!

Tony looked up angrily as the man pulled Rhodey around. “ _Give me back my Rhodey._ ”

Tony started to fly up, but Sam kicked him down at the same time as the large man threw Rhodey, sending him flying through the air while Peter chased after him. Soon, Rhodey regained control and came back, catching up with Tony who was fighting off Sam.

“Okay, if anybody on _our_ side is hiding any shocking and fantastic abilities they'd like to disclose, I'm open to suggestions.”

Sam sent Red Wing after him, which was just _insulting_. Luckily, Peter and Rhodey were keeping the giant guy more-or-less contained, but it looked like, of all people, Barnes and Steve might get away.

Vision and Wanda were facing off near the quinjet that Steve and Barnes were running to, and T’Challa would soon join them, so that would have to do for now. 

Peter swung around the giant man while Rhodey and Tony looked for an opening. “Hey, guys,” Peter shouted, dodging a huge hand, “you ever see that really old movie, Empire Strikes Back?”

“Jesus, Tony, how old is this guy?”

Tony sighed, _beyond_ frustrated by that point. “I don't know, I didn't carbon-date him! He's on the young side!”

Peter continued, “You know that part where they're on the snow planet with the walking thingies?” He started wrapping his webs around the man’s legs, hobbling him.

“Maybe the kid's on to something,” Tony said, flying higher. 

Peter concentrated the webs around the man’s knees, making it hard for him to stand, so that when Tony and Rhodey flew up, punching him in the chin at the same time, he fell back hard, his arms swinging for purchase as he went toppled to the ground. 

“YES!” Peter shouted excitedly, still swinging. “THAT WAS _AWESO—_ ” A giant arm smacked him in the face, sending him falling into a wooden crate and smacking the ground. 

The giant guy ended up ruining a plane before returning to his normal size, saying something. 

Tony ignored him, landing by Peter who hadn’t moved. Tony’s breath caught in his throat. “Kid . . .” He grabbed Peter’s shoulder, shocking the teen, who suddenly sat up, hands out to fight. 

Tony held out a placating hand. “Hey, same side. It’s me.”

Peter relaxed some, realizing who it was. “Oh. Hey, man. Whoo, that was scary.”

“Yeah, that’s why you’re done. You’re gonna stay down and out, alright?”

“What? No, I’m good, I’m fine—”

“No, you did a good job, but now you gotta worry about yourself, okay? You’re gonna stay down, or I’m gonna call Aunt May!” He flew away before the kid could argue more, checking after a moment to see he’d collapsed back on the ground, exhausted. 

The quinjet had flown out of the hangar by then, pursued by Rhodey, who was flying as fast as his heavy suit would allow. Tony tried to catch up, aware of Sam behind them. 

“Vision, I got a bandit on my six,” Rhodey said. Sam shot a few small explosives at him, which seemed to mildly annoy him more than anything else. “Vision! Target his thrusters, turn him into a glider.”

Vision, still on the ground with Wanda, fired an energy beam from the stone in his head. At the last moment, Sam spotted it and folded his wings, falling back and the beam— it hit—

“ _Rhodey!_ ” Tony dove down, flying as fast as he could as his oldest friend fell through the sky, a trail of black smoke in his wake. “ _RHODES!_ ”

He hit the ground.

Tony was by his side as fast he could be, pulling off the faceplate. Rhodey’s eyes were closed.

“Friday, read vitals.”

“Heartbeat detected. Emergency medical is on its way.”

Tony tried to breathe, but his throat wouldn’t let him. He was choking, drowning, _spiraling—_

Sam landed beside them. “I’m sorry.”

Tony shot him to the ground and stopped himself from doing more.

* * *

He couldn’t stand to watch Rhodey in the CT-scanner, leaving Vision to watch over him. Natasha was waiting for him in the hallway. _Of course._

They stood on a balcony to speak alone. “Doctors say he shattered L4 through S1. Extreme laceration in the spinal cord. Probably looking at some form of paralysis.” He looked out on the trees. Peaceful. Too peaceful. Didn’t they know the world was falling apart around them? Around him?

“Steve's not gonna stop.” Natasha looked up at him. “If you don't either, Rhodey's gonna be the best case scenario.”

“ _You_ let them go.”

“We played this wrong.”

“ _We?_ ” He wanted to laugh. He thought if he did, he wouldn’t stop. “Must be hard to shake the whole double agent thing, huh? It just . . . sticks in the DNA.”

Natasha stared at him. “Are you incapable of letting go of your ego for one goddamn second?”

Tony turned to face her fully. “If _you_ hadn’t let them go, they’d be in custody right now and Rhodey would be fine. If things had been just the tiniest bit different, he could be dead right now. Barnes and Rogers will be lucky if the worst thing that happens to them is jail.” He looked back to the trees. “T'Challa told Ross what you did. They're going to come for you.” _Good. One less snake in the pit._

“I'm not the one that needs to watch their back,” Natasha said quietly before walking away. Tony let her.

It was only moments later that he got an alert on his wrist-phone. Holographic images looked up at him. “What am I looking at, Friday?”

“Priority upload from Berlin police.”

Slowly, Tony turned it off. “Fire up the chopper.”

He waited until they were in the air before checking again, not trusting anyone else with it. “Show me again.”

“The Task Force called for a psychiatrist as soon as Barnes was captured. The UN dispatched Doctor Theo Broussard from Geneva within the hour. He was met by this man.” He looked . . . familiar?

“Did you run facial recognition yet?”

“What do I look like?” Friday asked with mock offense.

“I don’t know. I've been picturing a brunette.”

“You must be thinking of someone else.”

“Must be.”

Friday, bless her, did not point out the obvious conclusion to that, only told him what he needed to know. “The fake doctor is actually Colonel Helmut Zemo, Sokovian Intelligence. Zemo ran Echo Skorpion, a Sokovian covert kill squad.”

“So what happened to the real Broussard?”

“He was found dead in a Berlin hotel room, where police also found a wig and facial prosthesis approximating the appearance of one James Buchanan Barnes.”

 _Oh, great._ “Son of a bitch. Get this to Ross.”

* * *

The Raft Prison was in the middle of the ocean, a huge black cylindrical structure with few lights designed to keep things both in and out. It was designed for the sort of people the Avengers faced, too dangerous and powerful to be kept anywhere else. To get to it, you either had to wait for the entire thing to come up or be able to hold your breath for a long time.

Ross greeted him at the helipad. By then, the pain in his arm had compelled Tony to keep it in the sling the doctors gave him, even as he hated it. “You got the files?” Tony asked. “Let's reroute the satellites, start facial scanning for this Zemo guy.”

“You seriously think I'm gonna listen to you after that fiasco in Leipzig? You're lucky you're not in one of these cells.” Ross turned away, leading him through the prison to an operations room. One screen showed Wanda, hunched over in a straightjacket in her tiny cell.

Another door opened, this one leading into a chamber full of cells . . . and their inhabitants.

Clint clapped. “The _Futurist_ , gentlemen! The Futurist is here! He sees all! He knows what's best for you, whether you like it or not.”

Tony walked over to his barred wall. “You know I had no idea they’d put you here.”

Clint spat. “You knew they'd put us _somewhere_.”

“Yeah, but not some super-max floating ocean pokey. This place is for maniacs. This is a place for . . .” He trailed off.

“Criminals?” Clint asked pointedly, standing up. “Criminals, Tony. Think that's the word you're looking for.” He watched Tony through the bars. “That didn't used to mean me, or Sam, or Wanda. But here we are.”

“Because you broke the law. That’s what the word means, isn’t it?”

Clint huffed. 

“I didn't make you. And it was me or someone who didn’t _care_ if they brought you in dead or alive, you _know_ that. Or did you think there would be no consequences? That you could just do it and go home, and no one would care?”

Clint turned, walking around his limited space. “La, la, la, la, la—”

“I didn’t _make_ the law, Clint, but you chose to break it.”

“La, la, la, la la—”

“Y’know, you're all grown up, you got a wife and kids. I don't understand, why didn't you think about them before you made the wrong choice?” He walked away. 

Clint was back at the bars in seconds. “You gotta watch your back with this guy.” He hit the glass. “There's a chance he's gonna break it.”

Tony stopped, but didn’t flinch, didn’t let them see. He kept walking. 

The now normal-sized man looked at him. “Hank Pym always said, you can never trust a Stark.”

“Who are you?”

Tony didn’t bother to listen to his response, walking over to Sam. 

The other man didn’t face him when he spoke. “How’s Rhodes?”

“They're flying him to Columbia Medical tomorrow. So . . . fingers crossed.”

Sam shook his head, but didn’t respond. 

“What do you need? They feed you yet?”

Sam finally looked at him. “You the good cop now?”

“I’m the guy who needs to know where Steve went.”

“Well, you better go get a bad cop, because you're gonna have to go Mark Fuhrman on my ass to get information out of me.”

Tony sighed, tapping on his watch. “Well, I just knocked the 'A' out of their 'AV'. We got about 30 seconds before they realize it's not their equipment. Look.” He pulled up the image of the dead Broussard. “Because _that_ is the fellow who was _supposed_ to interrogate Barnes. Now Cap is off the reservation, but he's about to need all the help he can get. We don't know each other very well. You don't have to—”

“It’s alright,” Sam said, looking around uneasily. “Look, I'll tell you, but . . . you have to go _alone_ and as a _friend_.”

“Easy.”

* * *

Stephen looked at his friend. “Does it feel like something’s going to happen?”

Mordo paused before shaking his head. “Not to me. Why?”

Stephen sat back against the wall, hands shaking. “I think . . . something is about to happen.” He hesitated. “I . . . had a dream. Steve Rogers sat in front of me, eating my heart. Blood covered his face and hands. When I begged him to stop, he laughed at me.”

* * *

Tony pried open the bunker walls, finding Steve and Barnes ready for an attack with shield and gun. He retracted the helmet, walking towards him. “Oh, hey guys. You seem a little defensive.”

Barnes stayed back while Steve walked to meet him, the shield covering his torso. “Well, it’s been a long day.”

 _Yeah, tell me about it._ “At ease, Soldier. I'm not currently after you.”

“Then why are you here?” Steve asked, never losing his defensive stance. 

Tony shrugged. “Could be that your story's not so crazy. Ross has no idea I'm here. I'd like to keep it that way. Otherwise, I gotta arrest myself.”

“That sounds like a lot of paperwork.” He lowered his shield. “It's good to see you, Tony.”

“You too, Cap.” He rolled his eyes when he saw that Barnes still had his gun up. “Hey, Manchurian Candidate, you're killing me. There's a truce here. You can drop it.”

Steve gestured at Barnes, who finally lowered his weapon, joining them a moment later.

They walked through the bunker, looking for the other Winter Soldiers. Tony put the helmet back up, checking for signs of anything. “I got heat signatures.”

“How many?”

“Uh . . . one.”

The room they found was a vast chamber filled with capsules stained with yellow light. The bodies in them were just that — bodies.

“If it's any comfort,” a disembodied voice said, “they died in their sleep.” 

They moved in further. The soldiers had all been shot in the head, dark blood streaming from their wounds. They looked peaceful.

“Did you really think I wanted more of you?”

“What the hell . . .” Barnes muttered. 

“I'm grateful to them, though. They brought you here.” A light turned on in a chamber at the far end of the room, showing Zemo watching them. Tony raised his repulsors, and Steve hurled his shield, only for it to come back to him. “Please, Captain. The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets.”

“I'm betting I could beat that,” Tony said, his voice echoing through the cavernous room. The man’s accent reminded him of Wanda and Pietro.

“Oh, I'm sure you could, Mister Stark. Given time. But then you'd never know why you came.”

“You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here?” Steve demanded, looking at Zemo through the chamber’s window.

Zemo stared back. “I thought about nothing else for over a year. I studied you. I followed you. But now that you're standing here, I just realized . . .” He moved closer. “. . . there's a bit of green in the blue of your eyes.” He chuckled. “How nice to find a flaw.”

“You're Sokovian,” Steve said, staring steadily forward. “Is that what this is about?”

“Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. No. I'm here because I made a promise.”

Steve studied him. “You lost someone?”

It took Zemo a moment to speak. “I lost everyone.” His eyes were wet, only enough that you could tell if you stared for a while. “And so will you.” He turned, pressing a button that they couldn’t see. Behind Steve, a screen came to life, showing a date from nineteen-ninety-one in Russian. Steve looked at it, cautiously walking over. “An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one which crumples from within? That's dead . . . forever.”

Tony and Barnes joined him at the screen. Tony stopped, stared. _DEC. 16, 1991_. “I know that road.” He couldn’t keep his voice from shaking. “What is this?”

Zemo didn’t answer, allowing the video to play. A car slammed full-force into a tree, wrecking the hood. He knew that car. He didn’t want to know that car.

Tony stood closer, staring. A man on a motorbike rode up. _James Barnes._

Howard Stark fell out of the front seat, face bloody. He was saying something, but no sound played. Barnes held him up by the hair, staring at him with no expression. His metal fist slammed into Howard’s face, one, two, three times, until he was still and the light left his eyes. Barned hauled him up, sitting him in the driver’s seat. Tony stared, unable to look away, to even move. Was there no sound or could he just not hear it? His ears were filled with the sound of rushing blood.

Barnes went around to the other side of the car. His hand reached through the passenger window. He couldn’t see what happened next. He didn’t need to.

When it was down, Barnes shot the surveillance camera.

Tony was frozen, unable to move or think or breath. Then he started to move to Barnes, his body running on instinct. Steve grabbed him.

“Tony, _stop_.”

Tony looked at him, and the realization was as body as what he’d seen. When he spoke, he didn’t recognize his own voice. “Did you know?”

Steve hesitated. “I didn’t know it was him.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Rogers. _Did you know?_ ”

Rogers stilled. “Yes.”

Tony wrenched himself out of his grip, stepping back. He could hear his heart. Wondered why it hadn’t stopped yet. His eyes burned. 

The helmet covered his face, and he hit Rogers across the face, sending him to the cold floor.

When Barnes shot at him, he shot back with a repulsor, destroying his gun and catching his metal hand with the gauntlet. He held Barnes up, flying across the room, and slamming him into the ground

There was no thought to it. He didn’t think. There was only cold anger, infecting every cell of his body until it was all he knew. He could barely even see Barnes when he slammed a foot down on his metal arm. He only saw Stephen, helpless in his car, Rhodey still in the suit that was meant to protect him, blood on his father’s face and a metal hand around his mother’s throat.

Rogers’s shield hit him in the head, enough to knock his repulsor shot off course. Rogers knocked him back a few feet, but not enough to put him down. In seconds, Tony rammed into him, knocking him on his back before shackling his ankles to keep him there. Barnes tried to pull him back, punching the armor before Tony lifted him up and slammed him against a wall

_Stephen, Rhodey, Dad, Mom—_

Tony raised his hand to Barnes’s face, repulsor glowing white, but Barnes twisted his hand away, pulling it back until the repulsor broke. 

_Blood in the water, blood in the grass, blood in the car—_

He tried to fire a rocket, but Barnes sent him off target again, blowing up one of the yellow capsules in a blast of orange fire. Rogers managed to get the shackles off, ducking away to avoid collapsing metal and flames. Around them, metal and machines dominoed, forcing them all to the ground and showering them in sparks.

_Stephen, Rhodey, Dad, Mom—_

Tony got up and tried to fire after Barnes, but he missed, and then the murderer was out of his sight and Rogers was blocking his path. 

“It wasn't him, Tony! Hydra had control of his mind!”

_Blood in the water, blood in the grass, blood in the car—_

“Move!” Tony flew forward, but Rogers caught him by the leg, smashing it with his shield before Tony shook him off and moved forward. He stopped, using a laser to cut into the stone above a doorway, blocking Rogers from getting out.

“Left boot jet failing,” Friday warned. “Flight systems compromised.”

Tony rose through the tower Barnes had run into, the suit shaking and unable to support him properly. He stopped a few times before going farther. Above him, Barnes moved from platform to platform. 

_Stephen, Rhodey, Dad, MOM—_

He kicked Barnes from the platform he was on, knocking him to another and taking aim while the killer tried to regain his balance. 

_Blood in the water, blood in the grass, blood in the CAR—_

At the lost moment, Rogers made it to his friend, crouching in front of Barnes with his shield raised, sending the energy back to him. Tony dropped down, landing heavily on another platform. Rogers said something to Barnes, sending him running up. When Tony tried to follow, Rogers wrapped a wire around his neck, dragging him down and knocking him around before they landed on separate places. 

Barnes was still moving. Tony started to aim, then stopped, moving just in time to deflect Rogers’s shield, letting it fall to the ground. When he tried again, the target kept moving around.

“Targeting system's inaccurate, boss.”

_Stephen, Rhodey, Dad, Mom, everyone who ever loved him, and he couldn’t save them, he couldn’t save ANYONE—_

“I’m eyeballing it.” He took aim as the helmet retracted. When he fired, it wasn’t for Barnes, but on the opening hatch for the top of the tower, knocking it down and closing them all in. 

Barnes fell from the force and tried to fend Tony off with a pipe, but he quickly disarmed him, wrapping an arm around his neck from behind. “ _Do you even remember_ them?"

_Blood on his hands, blood on his hands, blood on my hands—_

“I remember all of them.”

Barnes pushed them away from the wall, and the suit, already failing and weighed down, lowered shakily through the air until Rogers jumped on them, sending all three falling to the concrete ground. Snow gently drifted in from outside.

Tony stood, facing Rogers. The soldier panted. “This isn't gonna change what happened, Tony.”

_Stephen, Rhodey, Dad, Mom, Stephen, Rhodey, Dad, Mom, Stephen, Rhodey, Dad, Mom—_

_What’s a little more blood?_

“I don’t care. He killed my mom.”

He fell hard on Rogers’s face, and wished he could feel the skin bruise and bleed. 

Rogers hit back, of course, as hard as he could with serum running through his veins where there should have been blood. They fought, throwing punches and each other until Tony had him on the ground, aiming for flesh and meeting concrete until Barnes slammed the shield into his back, knocking him forward. Tony fired, a blast of energy ricocheting off the shield.

Tony fought back, quickly getting to his feet and trading blows, but between the two of them and his weakened suit, he was quickly tiring. They almost had him until he managed to knock Rogers against a wall, getting back to his feet to fight Barnes. Tony tried to get a laser or repulor or _anything_ on him, but Barnes pushed him back to a wall, holding him with one hand on his face and another trying to pry the arc reactor from his chest. Tony bit down on his lip so hard, blood ran down his face.

_Blood on my face, blood on my chest, blood on my hands—_

Metal fingers carved into him, into his suit, into his chest, into his _flesh—_

A blast from the arc reactor sent Barnes flying back, his metal arm destroyed. Rogers ran up to him, shield in hand, to keep Tony from firing further. 

_Whose blood is it?_ Tony fired at the shield, golden light encasing them.

_Is it mine or theirs?_

He didn’t remember anymore.

Rogers forced him back, slamming the rim of the shield into his chest

“You can't beat him hand to hand!” Friday said, sounding genuinely fearful for the first time since Tony created her.

“Analyse his fight pattern.”

“Scanning!”

Rogers looked like a demon, teeth showing, eyes dark, blood on his face, landing a blow with his shield every second.

_Blood on his face or on mine? Why can’t I see the blood on my hands?_

“Countermeasures ready!”

Tony grabbed the shield, blasting it away, then Rogers, countering every punch he tried and sending him to his knees next to Barnes.

Tony stood over him. 

Rogers panted, but would not give up. “He’s my friend.”

_Stephen, Rhodey, Dad, Mom, Me—_

“So was I.” He slammed a fist into Rogers’s face, then again, until the man on his hands and knees staring at the ground. Tony threw him to an opening in a wall. “Stay down. Final warning.”

Rogers struggled tiredly to his feet, flakes of snow sticking to him. He raised his fists. “I can do this all day.”

_How long have I been doing this? Am I dead yet?_

Tony raised his hand when Barnes grabbed his leg. Tony turned, kicking him in the face, but that gave Rogers enough time to pick him up and throw him down. The soldier straddled him, punching him in the face before picking up the shield and bashing the helmet in, tearing it off. Rogers raised the shield above him one last time, and Tony moved his hands in front of his face and waited for the final blow.

_Your blood on my hands, my blood on your hands._

Rogers brought the shield down on the arc reactor in his chest. Slowly, the blue light dimmed. Tony stared.

Rogers fell to the side, exhausted, before standing and wrenching the shield out of the suit. Tony watched as he limped away, pulling Barnes up by his remaining arm.

Tony painfully rolled over on his side, every part of his body aching. “That shield doesn't belong to you. You don't deserve it. My _father_ made that shield!”

_Lies and blood, on all our hands._

Rogers stopped. Tony almost thought he might turn back until he dropped the shield, letting it fall to the snowy ground.

Tony collapsed when they were gone, light swirling around his vision. _Blood and lies and Stephen and Mom and Rhodey and cars and water and snow . . ._

Darkness took him.

* * *

Stephen sat on his bed, hands shaking. He couldn’t read, he couldn’t eat, he couldn’t speak. Nothing shook the feeling that something bad was happening, and he couldn’t stop. When was the last time he felt this helpless? 

His phone rang. 

Stephen almost jumped off the bed, scrambling for the phone and answering immediately. “Tony?”

“This is an emergency message meant for Stephen Strange, Virginia Potts, and James Rhodes,” Friday’s voice sounded through the phone. “Tony Stark is unconscious and in danger. His suit is down. Sending coordinates.”

Stephen didn’t hear the rest of the message. He couldn’t hear anything at all. He was blind to the world around him, taking the sling ring from his belt and standing up. He thought of Tony, the perfect tan of his skin and his soft hair against his fingers. Deep brown eyes and barely-there freckles scattered across his face. Shoulders that held the weight of the world and a smile that could keep it warm . . .

Cold air flowed into the room, making him shiver and cover his arms. Stephen ignored it, running through the portal. Tony lay on a concrete floor, face pale and streaked with dark blood and flakes of snow. Steve Roger’s vibranium shield sat to the side of him, claw marks breaking the pattern.

Stephen fell to his side. The Iron Man armor was beaten and dented and broken, the helmet thrown to the side and the arc reactor busted and dim. Stephen brushed the snow from Tony’s face, gently cradling his face. “I’m here, Tony. I’m not going anywhere.”

The suit was a new one, but it was familiar enough that Stephen was able to remove it with ease, unsteady hands finding the failsafes only he and Pepper and Rhodey knew about. Stephen pulled him out of the suit, carrying him bridal-style to Kamar-Taj.

* * *

Mordo set a tea tray down on Stephen’s desk. “The Ancient One asked me to bring you this. It will help when he wakes up.”

“Thank you,” Stephen said quietly, sitting in a chair beside his bed. Tony was lying there, dressed in warm red robes with thick blankets up this chin. Warm compresses were pressed against his chest and neck, just in case.

Mordo looked at Tony, his expression unreadable. “How did you find him? You should not have been able to make a portal there, you haven’t advanced that far yet.”

Stephen absently brushed a hand over a lock of Tony’s hair, smiling softly. “It’s Tony.”

* * *

The lights were a soft, warm yellow. When he opened his eyes, his vision was blurred. The only thing he could see clearly was Stephen, the sharp planes of his face and pale blue-green of his eyes. 

_Am I dead?_ That was fine. They could be dead together, and no one would bother them. 

Tony smiled, reaching up a weak hand and pulling Stephen down to him, kissing him. _We could do this for the rest of eternity and be happy._

He sat frozen when Stephen whimpered painfully, tears rolling down his face. “I thought I might lose you.”

Suddenly, the world around them came into sharp focus, every inch too real and detailed. He was bruised and battered, his body exhausted. But he was warm, almost hot, and it felt like he was in a soft bed. When he looked at Stephen again, he realized his hair had been cut and his beard was shaved down into a goatee.

His first thought was, _We match._

His second thought was, _What the fuck?!_

Tony sat up, wincing when he moved too quickly. “Shit.”

Stephen set one hand on his shoulder and another on his chest, gently helping him sit up and lean against the wall. “Careful, your chest is hurt and you’re recovering from hypothermia.”

Tony laughed. “Well you would know, wouldn’t you?” Tony looked around. “Where the hell are we?”

“We are in . . . Nepal.”

“How did we get here?” In place of a window, there was a carved wooden screen that let in slits of light. Incense was burning. 

“I brought you here. You were in Siberia, you were half-frozen.”

Tony looked at him, taking in his weird clothes for the first time. “How the hell did you bring me here?”

“. . . You’re supposed to drink this tea—” Stephen tried to stand, but Tony pulled him to the bed.

“ _Stephen._ Where are we?”

Stephen’s hand twitched painfully, his fingers curling. “This is Kamar-Taj.”

* * *

Mordo could hear the arguing from every room in the building. He had to escape to the library to ignore it.

This turned out to be the opposite of what he was trying to do.

He walked up behind Wong, who was sitting at a table watching Stephen and Tony argue through a scrying bowl.

“What are you _doing_?”

Wong didn’t look at him. “The Ancient One banned my soap operas, what am I supposed to do?”

“Not spy on our friend!”

“He’s not _my_ friend.”

“And you got too emotional about those shows.”

“They’re emotional.”

* * *

“ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT YOU RAN AWAY TO KATHMANDU FOR _MONTHS_ TO BECOME A _WIZARD_ WITHOUT TELLING _ANYONE WHERE YOU WERE—_ ”

“You knew I was alive!”

“Oh, well that just makes everything _so much better!_ I think I’m falling in love with you all over again!”

* * *

“What are you two doing?”

Mordo jumped in his chair, looking away from the bowl to The Ancient One standing behind him. “Um . . .”

* * *

Tony ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “I can’t believe you did this — _any_ of this — and didn’t tell me!”

“I couldn’t! Obviously, it’s all very secret!”

“Not so secret that you couldn’t tell me now!”

“Well, no—”

* * *

The Ancient One fiddled with her fan as she watched with growing interest. “Remind me never to let Stephen near a scrying bowl.”

Mordo and Wong nodded in agreement.

* * *

Tony wasn’t looking at him. Stephen could tell he was close to a breakdown if he hadn’t already been. “I can’t believe that of all people, you didn’t think you could tell me. You _know_ that I have always told you everything, I’ve never kept secrets from you.”

“Tony, you _know_ that things have been hell for me since—”

“Did you think I forgot? I did _everything_ I could for you, and you know, you _KNOW_ that I still would!”

“I lost _EVERYTHING_ ,” Stephen yelled back, “everything I ever worked for on my own, everything I ever _was_ , I lost _myself_!”

Tony whirled around, staring at him. “And I. Lost. _You._ ”

Stephen shook his head, the movement jerky and shaking. “No. No, you didn’t. Tony—” He took Tony’s hand, interlacing their fingers. “Tony, I swear you didn’t."

"Then why did you leave?" Tony demanded, his voice wavering at the end before breaking completely. "Why did you leave me?"

Stephen was shaking so badly, he didn’t try to stop himself from falling to his knees. He rested his forehead against Tony’s stomach, still holding his hand. “I hated everything.” His voice wavered, an echo of Tony’s. “I hated the world, I hated you, I hated myself. I had to build myself again. I needed _time_ , and I _still_ need time, but I have _never_ stopped being yours.”

Tony didn’t respond, standing still as a statue. Then, he knelt on the ground, resting his chin on Stephen’s head and holding him.

* * *

The Ancient One, or whatever she was called, put some honey in her tea. “How is your chest? Stephen worried it might be troubling you.”

Tony absently rubbed the scars on his chest, remembering his father’s shield sticking out of him. “It’s fine.”

“Good. Am I to assume that you’ll be leaving soon, then?”

“Tired of me already? ‘Cuz that’s fair.” _Whoa, I’ve only been awake for four hours and magic Jesus already wants me gone. Far from my best record, but passable._

“I was thinking of the mess that’s been made of the past week.” She sipped her tea. “But if you’d prefer to ignore the world, there are few better places to do it.” 

Tony tried for a smile. “Thank you, Magic Jesus.”

The Ancient One stopped, looking at him. “If I did not know you already, I would be able to tell that you were Stephen’s.”

 _Know me?_ Tony knew he wasn’t at his best, but he was pretty sure he’d remember meeting a magic woman with scars over her head and bright yellow robes.

“Oh, I know you well,” she said before Tony had spoken. “I’ve seen you many times whilst looking at possible timelines.” She stirred her glass. “You’re also on the news quite often.”

“Uh, yeah, can you back up to the timelines . . . thing? That sounds important.”

The Ancient One smiled. Tony couldn’t tell if she meant to be cheery or cryptic or both. “It is the responsibility of the Sorcerer Supreme to protect Earth and maintain balance in the world. Part of that involves knowing potential threats, problems, and allies. Yes, I’ve seen you many times before. And I've seen possibilities for your future and what is now your past. Once, I looked at a timeline where you never became Iron Man.”

Tony waited a few seconds for her to speak again, sighing when she didn’t. “What happened?”

The Ancient One did not bother to look at him, seeming more concerned with her plain wooden fan. “Both yourself and the world were much worse for it. Many more died that would have been saved by you.”

Tony swallowed. “Oh—”

“You would have married Stephen and been happy for all of a few months. He would eventually find his way to Kamar-Taj, followed by your divorce. I believe you ended up drinking yourself to death, then. He went to your funeral.”

Tony stared at her. “Well thank you for that information!”

* * *

He decided to stay the night. It wasn’t something he’d normally do, but after what happened in Siberia . . . he needed some time to collect himself. 

Stephen had left before The Ancient One invited Tony to speak to her. Tony went to sleep before he came back, the past days having taken their toll on him.

He woke when Stephen lay down beside him. “Hey.”

Stephen nodded his acknowledgment, pulling a blanket over them. His cheek was pressed against the scars on Tony's chest. Years ago, he used to wake up with Stephen lying on the arc reactor, as peaceful as he ever was with blue lighting up his face.

Stephen paused. “Is it alright if I sleep here with you? I can go somewhere else if I have to.” 

“Don’t. Just . . . stay.”

Stephen nodded, relaxing some. He waited a moment before saying, “I’m sorry. I went with another sorcerer, Mordo to see Rhodey after I heard what happened. I thought . . . he might be able to come here.”

“But he can’t, can he.” Tony wasn’t even surprised when terrible things happened anymore.

Stephen shook his head. “Mordo said he wouldn’t do well here. He doesn’t have the . . . ability to do magic that complex and difficult.” Stephen clutched Tony’s shoulders. When he closed his eyes, he saw one of the only people he’d call a friend in pain, barely able to move. “I wanted . . . to do that for him. I wanted to do something right.”

“Yeah. We’re not good at that, though. Trust me, I’ve let more people down this week than you.” Hesitant, he kissed Stephen’s forehead. “Let’s just . . . sleep and pretend the world doesn’t exist for a while. Let’s pretend everything is okay, just tonight.”

Tony closed his eyes and imagined blue light over Stephen.

* * *

“What did Steve do to you?”

The early morning light filtered through the slits of the wooden screen. Stephen lay beside Tony on his stomach, tracing meaningless patterns on his arm. Tony watched his fingers move, rememorizing the long scars that covered them. 

“What makes you think he did anything?”

“His shield was there. He wasn’t.” He paused. “Also, I dreamed he would eat my heart in front of me. It was disgusting.” 

“Well, that didn’t happen.”

Stephen traced the scars where the arc reactor once was. “I think it might have.”

Tony didn’t respond to that.

It took him a while to explain what all had happened with Steve and the Accords. By the time he was done, Stephen was sitting up on the bed, furious.

“Do you want me to try to find them? I probably can.”

Tony shook his head. “No. Better gone then constantly trying to break out and cause everyone else problems. Let them hide and scurry for survival, I don’t care anymore.”

Stephen sat back some, but was clearly still upset. “They don’t deserve everything you’ve done for them.”

“You never cared for them. You put up with them.” 

“That’s because I don’t have faith in people, Tony. Just one person.”

Tony pulled him back down to the bed, kissing the top of his shoulder. “You know I need to leave.” 

“I wish you didn’t. Wish we could go back to the way things were.” 

They both knew they couldn’t.

* * *

Before he left, Stephen gave him some notes he’d made for Rhodey, along with permission to give Rhodey his new phone number. He couldn’t always be available — the past two days had been theirs, but normally he was busy studying and practicing his . . . magic. 

_God, this is so weird._ He’d known about aliens for years by now, and even the Asgardians had something magic-ish that he still hadn’t figured out. But Stephen had always been separate from that, protected by human technology and defined by human qualities like ambition and pride and, occasionally, joy. He had never been a part of this, and Tony wished he never would be.

He walked beside Rhodey in the first set of braces he’d made for him, an expansion on an old design that he and Stephen had made when they were working on medical tech together. “Give me some feedback. Anything you can think of. Shock absorption. Lateral movement. Cup holder?”

“You may wanna think about some AC down h—” He moved his hand from Tony’s shoulder to quickly, messing up and falling to the floor, catching himself on his hands.

Tony quickly sunk to his side, not fast enough to have caught him. “I'll give you a hand.” He tried to hold his friend’s shoulder, but Rhodey waved his hand away, holding himself up by his right arm.

“No, no, don't. Don't help me.” He breathed hard, eyes shut in pain and concentration as he turned himself around, sitting up beside Tony. For a moment, he tried to smile, but he looked away as his face fell. “One hundred thirty-eight. One hundred thirty-eight combat missions. That's how many I've flown, Tony. Every one of them could've been my last, but I flew 'em. Because the fight needed to be fought. It's the same with these Accords. I signed because it was the right thing to do. And, yeah, this sucks. This is . . . this is a bad beat.” He looked up. “But it hasn’t changed my mind.” He smiled crookedly, sweat lining his face.

Tony held out his hand, helping Rhodey up when he accepted it. “You okay?”

Rhodey nodded. “Oh, yeah. You know me. I’ll be fine.”

* * *

When the package came (and Tony was ninety percent certain it came from a man called Stanlee, who had been on his wedding guest list for some reason), Tony immediately took it to his office.

The flip phone was not unlike the one Stephen had been using in Kathmandu (he made a mental note to get him a new one since the secrets were all out now), though possibly even more ancient.

_Tony, I'm glad you're back at the compound. I don't like the idea of you rattling around by yourself. We all need family—_

Tony folded the letter up and put it in a drawer. He could ignore it, for now. 

He could ignore a lot of things for now.

* * *

It didn’t take long for things at Kamar-Taj to return to their natural rhythm. At least, not for everyone else. More than ever before, Stephen found himself thinking of his maybe-fiancé.

Not that it hindered his progress. He always had been great at multitasking.

Stephen walked alongside The Ancient One as they spoke, very much strutting in his new blue robes.

The Ancient One was, as always, both amused by and exasperated with him. “Once, in this room, you begged me to let you learn. Now I’m told you question every lesson, preferring to teach yourself.”

“Once, in this room, you told me to open my eye. Now I’m being told to blindly accept rules that make _no_ sense.”

“Like the rule against conjuring a gateway in the library?”

Stephen couldn’t quite help the smirk that emerged. “Wong told on me?” _Wong, you sneaky bitch._

His mentor ignored him. “You’re advancing quickly with your sorcery skills. You need a safe space to practice your spells.” She turned, throwing out an arm. It was as though there were a perfectly clear wall in the center of the room, suddenly cracking apart like a broken mirror. The broken fragments turned in on each other, creating a kaleidoscope effect as she walked towards it.

Stephen followed her, only slightly hesitating when she disappeared into the glass. But when he stepped forward, he didn’t feel anything, though now the room looked to have been fractured by mirrors.

“You are now inside the Mirror Dimension. Ever present, but undetected. The real world isn’t affected by what happens here. We use the Mirror Dimension to train, surveil, and sometimes to contain threats. You don’t want to be stuck in here without your sling ring.”

Stephen listened almost absently, passing his hand through a passing student, seeing and feeling no effect, though he could still set his hand on a table when he tried. It took him a moment to register what she’d said. “Hold on, what do you mean _threats_?”

The Ancient One snapped dramatically, sending the floor and ceiling dividing into themselves, their patterns repeating in an infinite loop.

Stephen stepped back.

“Learning of an infinite multiverse included learning of infinite dangers. And if I told you everything else that you don’t already know, you’d run from here in terror.”

Stephen stared at her. _Well that’s reassuring._

* * *

Stephen adjusted his gloves, flexing his fingers uncomfortably. The leather wasn’t as bad on his scars as scratchy fabric, but they were by no means comfortable. He looked across the courtyard at The Ancient One, who was busy watching another pair of sorcerers. “So, just how ancient is she?”

Mordo looked up from where he was fixing his boots. Things had been surprisingly not-awkward since their almost-kiss, but it was the first time they’d sparred together since then. 

If Mordo cared, he didn’t show it. “No one knows the age of the Sorcerer Supreme. Only that she is Celtic and never talks about her past.”

They stood across from each other. “You follow her even though you don’t know?”

Mordo seemed unconcerned. “I know that she’s steadfast, but unpredictable. Merciless, yet kind. She made me what I am.” He dropped into a fighting stance, nodding slightly when Stephen followed suit. They circled each other. “Trust your teacher. And don’t lose your way.”

“Like Kaecilius?”

“That’s right.” Mordo spun, his foot going for Stephen’s head. 

Stephen ducked in time, using Mordo’s momentary lack of balance to his advantage by pushing him back, grabbing his arms to prevent a strike. “You knew him?”

Mordo pulled himself back, twisting Stephen around and putting him in a headlock. “When he first came to us, he’d lost everyone he ever loved. He was a grieving and broken man, searching for answers in the mystic arts. A brilliant student, but he was proud, headstrong. Questioned the Ancient One, rejected her teaching. He left Kamar-Taj. His disciples followed him like sheep, seduced by false doctrine.”

Stephen just barely even heard what he said, too focused on the muscular arm pressing hard against his throat. Jesus, he hadn’t felt anything like that since the week before the accident . . . 

_Oh, fuck._

Stephen, moving quickly and suddenly, elbowed Mordo sharply in the stomach, breaking out of his grasp. Mordo huffed painfully, rubbing the spot on his abdomen where Stephen had gotten him, though he smiled, appreciating Stephen’s progress.

Stephen rubbed his throat, his eyes looking past Mordo and the courtyard before snapping back to attention. “I have to . . . I have to go.” He turned to walk off, still massaging his neck, before Mordo grabbed his sleeve.

“Where are you going?” He didn’t seem upset so much as curious, maybe concerned.

“My . . .” Stephen stumbled along his words. “My _hands_ , they’re . . . not good right now. I think I’ll stick to reading for today. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mordo.”

Mordo watched him, but nodded, letting him go. Stephen gratefully left, trying not to draw attention to himself as he hurried to his room, ignored the glances sent his way. 

The first thing he did was shut and lock the door, checking twice before he pulled his shirt off, collapsing on the bed. He shoved his pants down, shucking them off along with his shoes and socks. His cock was quickly hardening, trying to remember how it felt when Tony choked him with his belt until he came untouched. 

_Oh, Tony._ Hard lines and scarred skin and hands that always knew just what he wanted . . .

He didn’t have any lube, so instead he licked his palm, wrapping his hand around his cock, the heated flesh driving him on.

But his grip was weak and any tighter was painful, and, _Fuck_ , it was not long before his hand started to cramp painfully, killing his ability to use it.

Stephen cursed, cradling his hand against his chest. _How . . ._

He smiled, flexing his hand carefully as he thought of something else. Rolling onto his stomach, he grabbed the blanket and started bunching it up, creating a soft, semi-firm surface. Resting on his forearms, he moved his hips. He remembered how Tony felt under him, their dicks rubbing against each other. 

He moaned, biting his lips as his hips jerked, moving his cock against the fabric. He moved again, more deliberately, thrusting and rutting shamelessly against the bed. His movements grew shaky and quick, building up and becoming more and more desperate, until, until, _Oh, fuck—_

He collapsed on the bed, his cock spurting cum over his blankets and stomachs, slowly regaining control of his breathing.

Gently, he traced his neck.

* * *

The library was empty, as it typically was at night. Good. He wasn’t technically doing anything _wrong_ , but he was doing something that Wong told him not to.

He took The Book of Cagliostro down, flipping through it while eating an apple. One of the pages he landed on showed a familiar relic, the Eye of Agamotto that sat on a stand in an open room five feet in front of him.

_. . . Oh, I can’t just NOT try that. It’s sitting right there._

If Tony had been thinking of something so dangerous, Stephen would have yelled his head off.

On the other hand, Tony wasn't there to bitch at his hypocrisy . . .

He took another bite from his apple, stood up, got the eye, and put it on before returning to the book. “Okay.” He raised his hands, thumb and pinky folded in, two fingers pressed against their counterpart while the final two rose above. 

He crossed his arms, channeling magic as The Ancient One had taught him. It felt different. More . . . forceful than normal, almost hungry, flowing through his entire body rather than his hands or arms. 

The eye made a sound like metal singing as it opened, glowing green. 

_Kind of surprised that worked._ “Alright.” He put his hands together at the wrists, making a gesture that made him think of a squid’s beak and twisted them around, ignoring the pain in his fingers as he conjured a green symbol made of circles in circles. _Getting somewhere._ He dragged the circle up, splitting it into several parts that fit over his arm while one remained where it had been. Slowly, he moved his hand to the side, focusing on the half-eaten apple. A new bite appeared in it, then another, until only the core sat on the table. 

_Holy fuck._ He moved his arm in the opposite direction, turning time back, the apple red and whole and shining before him. “Okay . . .” He turned time forward again, until the apple was covered in grey mold. 

He reversed time once more before moving the apple to the side, returning his attention to the book, placing it in the center of the table and turning to where the torn pages had been. His hand hovered over the weathered paper, twisting as he restored the pages.

Stephen smiled before reading. _Dormammu . . . the Dark Dimension . . . eternal life?_

Before he had even finished looking, something went wrong with the time spell, splitting the space in front of him into fractured green mirrors, and, _Oh, that’s a lot—_

“ _Stop!_ ” Mordo and Wong ran in, startling Stephen so badly he dropped his hands, breaking the spell and vanishing the mirrors.

Mordo did _not_ seem happy. “Tampering with the continuum of probability is _forbidden_!”

Not used to Mordo being angry with him, Stephen stammered, “I- I was just doing exactly what it said in the book!”

“And what did the book say about the dangers of performing that ritual?!” Wong demanded. 

“I don’t know, I hadn’t gotten to that part yet.” It sounded worse than it had in his head.

“Temporal manipulations can create branches in _time_!” Mordo said, sounding more angry with every word. “Unstable dimensional openings, spatial paradoxes, _time loops!_ You want to get stuck reliving the same moment over, and over, forever, or never having existed at all?!”

Stephen hesitated, looking at the book. “They really should put the warnings before the spell.”

Wong slammed the book shut. “Your curiosity could have gotten you killed. You weren’t manipulating the space-time continuum, you were _wrecking_ it.” He returned the book to its place. “We do not _tamper_ with natural law. We _defend_ it.”

“How did you learn to do that?” Mordo demanded.

Stephen, still not sure if it was a good idea to speak, said, “Hm?”

“Where did you learn the litany of spells required to even understand it?”

By then, Mordo seemed less angry than confused. Stephen felt safe saying, “I have a photographic memory. It’s how I got my M.D. and Ph.D. at the same time.”

Mordo shook his head. “What you just did takes more than a good memory.” If Stephen had to guess, he would think the man was reluctantly impressed. “You were born for the mystic arts.”

“And yet, my _hands_ still shake.” He should be with Tony, helping him with the media crisis that Rogers caused and the truth of what happened to his parents. 

The others hesitated.

“For now, yes,” Wong said.

“Not forever?”

Mordo and Wong looked at each other. Mordo said, “We’re not prophets.”

“And when are you going to tell me what we are?”

Mordo and Wong looked at him, then each other. Mordo took his apple. “Follow us.”

They showed him the room that the Eye was kept in (which was, like, five feet away; he could have gone there himself). There were three doors, each with its own symbol decorating it, none of which were familiar. Above the Eye’s pillar was a bronze orb, carved to look like the Earth. 

Wong twisted a golden band on the dark pillar, making the orb spark with small golden lights on top of the continents. “While heroes like the Avengers protect the world from physical dangers, we sorcerers safeguard it against more mystical threats. The Ancient One is the latest in a long line of Sorcerers Supremes going back thousands of years to the father of the mystic arts, the mighty Agamotto.” Wong looked at him sharply. “The same sorcerer who created the eye you so recklessly borrowed.”

Stephen was still wearing it, too. He wasn’t sure why they hadn’t taken it yet, but he wasn’t going to remind them.

Wong continued. “Agamotto built three Sanctums in places of power, where great cities now stand.” He looked at each of the doors in turn. “That door leads to the Hong Kong Sanctum, that door to the New York Sanctum. That one, to the London Sanctum. Together, the Sanctums generate a protective shield around our world.”

“The Sanctums protect the world,” Mordo said solemnly, “and we protect the Sanctums.” 

_That_ was new. “From what?”

“Other-dimensional beings that would threaten our universe,” Wong said, watching him for a reaction. 

“Like Dormammu?”

Mordo stopped, stared at him. “Where did you learn that name?”

“I just read it in the book of Cagliostro. Why?”

Mordo and Wong looked at each other (which was really getting old), and Wong changed the orb, putting out the lights. “Dormammu dwells in the Dark Dimension. Beyond time. He is the cosmic conqueror, the destroyer of worlds.” Above them, the Earth was devoured by darkness. “A being of infinite power and endless hunger, on a quest to invade every universe and bring all worlds into his Dark Dimension. And he hungers for Earth most of all.”

Stephen thought of what he’d just seen. “The pages that Kaecilius stole . . .”

Wong nodded. “A ritual to contact Dormammu and draw power from the Dark Dimension.”

Stephen laughed nervously. “Uh, okay, I- just . . . I’m out. I came here to _heal my hands_ , not to fight in some . . . mystical war.”

Before either man could answer, a bell started to ring in the distance. 

Wong looked up. “London.”

The door to the London Sanctum opened, letting them watch as a man desperately ran towards them, struck down at the last moment by a sort of glass blade shot in his back. 

Stephen was already running to the man when he saw a man dressed in orange robes standing in the hall of the London Sanctum, an orb made of golden energy whirring above his head.

“Kaecilius!” Mordo shouted, running to the door. “ _No!_ ”

Kaecilius brought the ball down hard, sending a wave of fire through the sanctum and a shockwave of energy in Kamar-Taj. Stephen was blown back, knocking down a door as stone rained on the room. 

Stephen rose shakily, dust coating him. He winced, wiping blood from his eye. “Wong? Mordo?!” When he tried to go to the door, the ground shook, sending more dust and stone down. He stumbled back, dizzy and disoriented as he followed the corridor to his back instead. He found what looked like an entry hall with a staircase leading . . . somewhere. That didn’t seem like a safe bet, so he went for the door at the front instead, stopping a few times to hold his aching head. 

The street he found himself on was . . . weirdly familiar? Definitely not Kathmandu. The buildings were a mixture of old stone and metal skyscrapers, and when he looked, he could see Stark Tower. 

_Tony . . ._ More than anything, he wanted to find Tony and run away from all of this. But he didn’t even know what was happening, and he didn’t want to put him in danger. Aliens, robots, terrorists, Rogers, those were things Tony knew how to handle. Magic was . . .

He headed back inside, pausing to read the address on a plaque by the door. _177A Bleecker Street._

The door fell shut behind him. “Hello?” No one answered.

Stephen wandered through the halls, searching for someone who might know what to do. He found a set of doors that led to different places around the world, a room full of relics like the staff Mordo had shown him once, a floating red cloak that ‘watched’ him, but no people. He was thinking of what to do next when the building shook, a noise like rocks shifting against each other coming from downstairs.

In the front hall, the doors were shifting, blurring. Master Daniel Drumm stood at the base of the staircase with a staff in hand. Stephen stood at the top of the stairs, hidden by a shadow. 

Kaecilius walked in with two of his zealots, nodding in acknowledgment to Drumm. “Daniel. I see they made you Master of the Sanctum.”

“Do you know what that means?” Drumm asked.

Kaecilius summoned the same type of glass weapon that he’d used to kill the man from the London Sanctum. “That you’ll die protecting it.”

* * *

Stephen was quickly learning that he did not like to be stabbed. 

It was not an exaggeration to say that his life had been saved by a piece of fabric. The red cloak he’d seen earlier had broken out of its case and helped him imprison Kaecilius and stop one of the zealots from killing him in time for Stephen to drop her in the desert.

It _didn’t_ stop the second zealot from stabbing him in the back, but it did stop him from finishing the job, so, points. 

Stephen crawled, blood trailing along the floor, thinking, _Someone tell Tony . . ._

. . . when the cloak flew off him and wrapped around the zealot’s head and started knocking him around the hallway, slamming his head on the floor. The man’s sling ring slid away from him in the chaos, and Stephen snatched it up, wincing from the pain. He managed to stand, leaning on a wall while the cloak continued to beat the man on the floor. His hands rose, shaking as he summoned a portal, orange sparks forming an entry to the Metro.

He stumbled through the supply closet he found himself in, knocking over shelves before grasping desperately for the door and running out into a hallway. 

“Sir, can I help you?”

Eyes blurring from pain and barely able to take a step forward, Stephen asked, “Doctor Palmer? Where’s she?”

“Sir, I need to—”

“ _Where is she?_ ”

His body moved on autopilot, his mind no longer sure which way he should go. “Christine!” He half-slid to the floor, barely holding himself up on a table. 

“Stephen?” A voice like Christine’s said. “Oh my God, what—”

“You need to get me on an operation table now. Just you.” He could just make out her face, soft and oddly out-of-focus . . .

“What—”

“ _Now_ , I don’t have any time!”

Christine ushered him to a room and laid him on a table, asking something. 

Stephen said, “Stabbed. Cardiac tamponade . . . the blood is . . . in . . . pericardial sac . . .” _Wait, let me . . ._

His eyes closed. 

Stephen almost screamed rising out of his body, gasping for air as he entered the astral plane. He looked down at himself, then at Christine who was preparing to insert a needle. He phased back into reality enough for her to see him. “Just a little higher—”

Christine screamed, jumping back and almost knocking over a table of medical equipment.

Stephen sighed. “Please be careful with the needle.”

Christine stared at him. “Stephen?” She looked between him and ‘him’. “Wh- what am I seeing?”

“My astral body.”

She hadn’t moved closer. “Are you dead?”

“No. But I am dying.”

After a moment, Christine nodded shakily. “Right. Right.” She returned to the table, following Stephen’s faintly glowing hand as she positioned a needle. “I’ve never seen a wound like this. What the hell were you stabbed with?”

“I don’t know—” _Oh, Christ._ Across the room, the man who stabbed him was in the astral plane. _I should have closed that fucking portal._ “I’m going to have to vanish now.”

“What? Wait—”

“Keep me alive for a little bit.” He pulled back into the astral plane completely before kicking the zealot in the face as the man flew towards him, knocking him back through the floor. He was considering how to get them out of the hospital when the man came back, punching him into a wall before picking him up by the neck and threw him through the room and into a hallway. Stephen shook his head before getting back up, moving through the floors for an element of surprise. They threw each other around before the zealot caught him and pinned him to the table his body was laying on, punching him in the face and knocking Christine off balance before pushing him through the floor.

Soon, Stephen was exhausted, his injuries affecting him even in his astral form. When the man hit him again, he could feel the light start to fade, turning the world cold and numb. He could do nothing when the zealot grabbed his head—

Then the world was filled with gold.

The zealot flew back as the room filled with golden-orange light and shooting pure energy through his veins. Seeing the defibrillator in Christine’s hands, he revealed himself to her, speaking quickly. “Hit me again!”

Christine screamed, shaking her head. “Stop _doing_ that!”

“Up the voltage and hit me again, we don’t have a lot of time!”

“No, your heart’s beating, that could—”

“Christine, please, just _do it!_ ” He pulled back into the astral plane, ducking when the zealot tried to grab him before turning around and slamming the man against a wall, holding him in place while Christine charged the defibrillator—

Stephen screamed in pain and sheer _euphoria_ at the energy running through every vein in his body, filling him, overtaking him—

The zealot’s astral form exploded, sending Stephen reeling back into his body and gasping as he came back to life.

* * *

Stephen quietly slid to the floor, tilting the man’s head back and pressing to fingers to his neck. There was no pulse. 

The cloak returned to his shoulders as he slid the man’s eyes shut.

* * *

“Strange!” Relieved, Mordo pulled him into a hug. “You’re okay!”

Stephen nodded, basking in the solitary moment of relief. “A relative term, but yeah, I’m okay.”

Mordo stepped back, looking at him. “The Cloak of Levitation. It came to you.”

“No minor feat,” Tha Ancient One said with a slight smile, joining them. “It’s a fickle thing.”

Stephen shook his head, still dizzy on his feet. “Kaecilius has escaped. He can fold space and matter at will.”

“He folds matter outside the mirror dimension?” The Ancient One asked, growing serious. “In the real world?”

Stephen nodded.

“How many more?”

“Two. I stranded one in the desert, haven’t seen them since.”

Stephen stilled, holding his hand as though to make it stop shaking. “His body is in the hall. Master Drumm was in the foyer.”

“He’s been taken back to Kamar-Taj,” Mordo said quietly, a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“The London Sanctum has fallen,” their mentor said. “Only New York and Hong Kong remain now to shield us from the Dark Dimension. You defended the New York Sanctum from attack. With its Master gone, it needs another, Master Strange.”

Stephen stopped, stilled. “No.” He stared at her. “It is _Doctor_ Strange. Not Master Strange, not Mister Strange, _Doctor_ Strange. When I became a doctor, I swore an oath to do no harm, and I have just _killed a man!_ I am not doing that again. I became a doctor to _save_ lives, not take them.”

“You become a doctor to save one life above all others,” The Ancient One’s voice was as calm and devoid of emotion as ever. “Your own.”

Stephen resisted the urge to laugh. “Still see right through me?” 

“I see what I’ve always seen. Your overinflated ego. You want to go back to the delusion that you can control anything, even death, which no one can control. Not even the great _Doctor_ Stephen Strange.”

Stephen raised his head. “Not even Dormammu?” _That_ got a reaction. “He offers immortality.” 

_But the Dark Dimension . . . it’s a place beyond time. This world doesn’t have to die, Doctor._

The smile slid from her face. “It’s our fear of death that gives Dormammu life. He feeds off it.”

“Like you feed off him?” He asked pointedly. “You want to talk to me about controlling death? Well, I know how you do it. I’ve seen the missing rituals from the book of Cagliostro.”

She stilled, her voice barely above a whisper. “Measure your next words very carefully, doctor.”

“Because you might not like them?” To his side, Mordo was looking between the two of them, growing more and more confused. 

“Because you may not know of what you speak.”

“What is he talking about?” Mordo asked, no longer touching him.

“I’m talking about her long life, the source of her immortality.” He didn’t look away from her. “She draws power from the Dark Dimension to stay alive.”

Mordo smiled as though what he said was ridiculous. “That’s not true.”

The Ancient One ignored him. “Once they regroup, the zealots will be back. You’ll need reinforcements.” She turned and left, gripping her fan. 

Stephen shook his head when Mordo looked at him. “She is not who you think she is.”

“You don’t have the right to say that!” Mordo said, angrier with Stephen than he’d ever known the man to be. “You have no idea of the responsibility that rests upon her shoulders!”

“ _No_ , and I don’t want to know!”

“You’re a _coward_.”

Stephen scoffed. “Because I’m not a killer?”

“You say you’re not a killer, but you’re happy to align yourself with them when it’s useful for you, to go to their bed when it’s convenient and you don’t have to see the truth.”

“Do _not_ talk about Tony to me!” Stephen snapped. “You know _nothing_ about him!”

“I know you will defend him for the same things you say are so reprehensible to you! These zealots would snuff us all out, and you cannot muster the strength to do the same to them?”

“ _What do you think I just did?!_ ”

“You saved your own life! And then you whined about it like a wounded dog!”

“And you would have done it _so_ easily?”

“You have _no idea_ . . . the things I’ve done.” He stood less than a foot away, but Stephen couldn’t decipher the look in his eyes. “And the answer is yes. Without hesitation.”

“Even if there’s another way?” Even Tony tried to spare lives when he could. He never _wanted_ to hurt people.

“There _is_ no other way.”

“You lack imagination,” Stephen said coldly.

“ _No_ , Stephen,” Mordo said with an almost manic look in his eyes. “ _You_ lack a spine.”

Stephen stared at him, unable to think of anything, when they heard the rumbling of moving stone in the distance.

Mordo looked at him. “They’re back.”

* * *

In hindsight, putting Kaecilius and the zealots into the Mirror Dimension where they were more powerful was a bad idea.

Actually, scratch that, _every_ decision he’d ever made was a bad one. He should have just laid down in a field in Nebraska and let death take him when it felt like it.

By the time it felt like they’d spent ten years running through a whirring, spinning, dividing version of New York City and Kaecilius had him pinned to a metal platform, Stephen had come to terms with his impending murder and was imagining a future where Rhodey and Tony got married and had picnics on his grave. It was actually quite peaceful, and he’d managed to almost completely disassociate from the situation when the platform broke apart, allowing him to float calmly away while he and Kaecilius stared at each other, both wondering how that happened—

 _Oh, that’s how._ The Ancient One rose behind Kaecilius, effortlessly moving around buildings to separate the zealots from him, her magic coalesced into fans made of pure energy, until they all stood on a stone floor in the center of a hurricane of madness. Stephen and Mordo stood, caught between the enemies they’d been fighting and their mentor until she pushed them back. 

On the Ancient One’s forehead, perfectly spaced between her eyes, was the symbol from Dormammu's ritual.

“It’s true,” Mordo said in horror, standing beside Stephen. “She does draw power from the Dark Dimension.”

The Ancient One seemed to decide to ignore him for now, turning to face her lost-student. “Kaecilius.”

Kaecilius returned her gaze with eyes buried in burnt pits, circling her. “I came to you, broken, lost, bleeding. I trusted you to be my teacher, and you fed me lies.”

“I tried to protect you.”

“From the truth?”

For a moment, she seemed genuinely sad. “From yourself.”

“I have a new teacher now.”

She shook her head. “Dormammu deceives you. You have no idea of what he truly is. His eternal life is not paradise, but torment.”

Kaecilius stood before his followers, each of them with a mystic glass weapon in hand. “ _Liar._ ”

They came towards her with weapons drawn. The Ancient One met them without taking a single step forward, dodging their blows as though none were secret to her. Each move she made was swift and as sharp as glass, cutting through them effortlessly, turning Kaecilius’s reality-warps back on him, all while keeping Mordo and Stephen to the side. It was only when she held a zealot befor her, an energy disk to his throat like a knife, that Kaecilius managed to outmaneuver the Sorcerer Supreme, stabbing her through the body of his own follower. 

Stephen screamed, the sound tearing through his body and throat, but she only opened her mouth in surprise, hardly making a sound when Kaecilius kicked her through a portal. 

Immediately Stephen and Mordo followed, no longer restrained by her power (and wasn’t that a scary thought?), unable to do anything more than watch as she fell through a glass roof and to the ground, unmoving.

* * *

“It’s not fibrillation, she has a stunned myocardial—”

“It’s neurogenic?”

“Yes!” Stephen was running beside The Ancient One’s stretcher, Mordo gone to Kamar-Taj, doctors asking him questions he could barely keep up with—

He wasn’t sure how he ended up in the OR, only that his hands were shaking harder than ever and he desperately wished Tony were there. “Nick, we need to relieve the pressure on her brain—”

_“She’s still dropping—”_

_“We’re losing her—”_

_“You need to increase her oxygen—”_

_“I need a crash cart—”_

_“Her pupils are dilated—”_

_“No reflexes—”_

_“I’m not reading any brain activity—”_

Stephen listened to everything, taking in none of it as he realized what was happening when the lights flashed and a wave move through him. Stilling, he jumped out of himself, his body moving in slow-motion as he watched her, yellow and shining, pass through a wall. 

Stephen followed her. “What are you doing?”

The Ancient One was silent, passing through walls and hallways, leaving the center of the hospital behind. 

“Come on, you’re _dying!_ ” 

Finally she stopped, not for Stephen’s words, but for the view of the city through a window. 

Stephen stood beside her. Outside, the city was dark and filled with more stars than seemed possible, everything moving so slowly. Like seeing a person from the eyes of the sun. 

“You have to return to your body now, you don’t have time!”

“Time is relative,” she said, sounding no less calm than she did in the safety of Kamar-Taj. “Your body hasn’t even hit the floor yet.” Lightning struck, carefully inching out across the sky, shedding silver light on the falling snow. “I’ve spent so many years peering through time, looking at this exact moment. But I can’t see past it.” The slightest of smiles graced her lips. “I’ve prevented countless terrible futures. And after each one, there’s always another. And they all lead _here_ , but never further.”

“You think this is where you die,” Stephen said, the idea scaring him more than he would have thought. 

She didn’t answer. “You wonder what I see in your future?”

“No.”

She looked at him. 

“. . . yes.”

She shook her head, an almost imperceptible movement. “I never saw your future. Only its possibilities. You have such a capacity for _goodness_. You always excelled, but not because you crave success, but because of your fear of failure.”

“It’s what made me a great doctor,” Stephen said quietly. 

“It’s precisely what kept you from greatness.” Her eyes didn’t glow with the rest of her, pale and serene as always. “Arrogance and fear still keep you from learning the simplest and most significant lesson of all.”

He tilted his head. “Which is?”

She faced him. “It’s not about you.” The snow barely seemed to move at all, casting patterns on the floors and walls. Thunder rumbled smoothly in the distance, sending a new bolt of lighting down. “When you first came to me, you asked me how I was able to heal Jonathan Pangborn. I didn’t. He channels dimensional energy directly into his own body.”

“He uses magic to walk,” Stephen whispered. It seemed so obvious when he said it. 

The Ancient One nodded. “Constantly. He had a choice — to return to his own life or to serve something greater than himself.”

“So, I could have my hands back again? My old life?” His voice was filled with longing.

She nodded. “You could. And the world would be all the lesser for it.” Silver light fell on them. “I’ve hated drawing power from the Dark Dimension. But as you well know, sometimes one must break the rules in order to serve the greater good.” She paused, tracking the lightning’s movement with the same devotion she’d given to the world. “Why did you become a doctor?”

His mind immediately went to Donna, pale and blue-lipped, her heart beat gone. Lifeless brown eyes, a broken ankle, a bloody foot, and screams no one heard. “I wanted to stop death.”

She smiled, something like sadness filling her eyes. “Even you and I can’t do that forever.”

Stephen thought he might cry if he could. Like this, he could only stare. “I’m not ready.”

“No one ever is. We don’t get to choose our time.” She took his hand. “Death is what gives life meaning. To _know_ your days are numbered, your time is short.” She smiled, feeling lightning in the distance. “You’d think after all this time I’d be ready. But look at me. Stretching one moment out into a thousand, just so I can watch the snow.”

Stephen looked out at the city, its beauty both sharp and gentle, snow and lightning falling on steel buildings and old streets. Then her hand was gone, and he was alone.

* * *

He found Mordo standing in the wreckage of the New York Sanctum.

"She's dead," Stephen said quietly. For once, he didn't think his hands were shaking. Rather, his entire body was shaking in grief and fear and his hands were the only thing in the whole world that were still. 

"You were right," Mordo said, looking as broken as he sounded. "She wasn't who I thought she was."

Stephen looked away. "She was complicated."

Mordo looked at him sharply. " _Complicated?_ The Dark Dimension is volatile, _dangerous_. What if it overtook her?" His voice was rough and filled with mourning, not just for The Ancient One, but for what she had been to him. "She taught us it was forbidden, while she drew on its power to steal _centuries_ of life."

“She did what she thought was right.”

“The bill comes due,” Mordo said, sounding even more exhausted than Stephen. “Don’t you see? Her transgressions led the zealots to _Dormammu_. Kaecilius was _her_ fault. And here we are, in the consequence of her deception.” He looked around at the broken stone and wood. “A world on fire.”

“Mordo,” Stephen took a step towards him, one hand going to his friend’s shoulder, “the London and New York Sanctums have fallen. You know where they’re going next.”

Mordo nodded tiredly. “Hong Kong.”

“Mordo,” he made the other man look at him, “we have to go, _now_. You know I can’t defeat them alone. No one else can help me, none of them know how to fight something like this.” He stared at him searchingly. “ _Please._ ”

Mordo looked at him. When he nodded, it felt like the end of something, and it would take a long time for Stephen to realize why.

* * *

When they got to Hong Kong, firefighters had already arrived, desperately trying to put out the inferno that had engulfed what was once the Hong Kong Sanctum while civilians ran around screaming in pain and fear. Above the skies of the city, purple and neon red, blue, and green whirred in a maelstrom of energy and darkness as Dormammu drew them into his Dark Dimension.

“It’s too late,” Mordo said, horror choking him as Kaecilius and his zealots came running. “Dormammu is coming. Nothing can stop him.”

 _No._ They hadn’t come so far only to lose everything at the last second—

 _Second._ “I have an idea.” He opened the Eye of Agamotto, still resting around his neck after all this time, and moved his hands into position. 

Kaecilius, seeing this, ran faster, but just as he was about to send a clear blade through Stephen’s skull, time stopped.

Stephen huffed, concentrating all his energy on the spell. Finally, time began to reverse, pushing the zealots back and slowly undoing the damage to the Sanctum.

Stephen dropped his arms, pulling Mordo into the spell with him as the world turned back before their eyes. “It’s working, we have a second chance!” They ran through the street, past Kaecilius and his followers through a storm of moving stone and water and fire—

 _Oh, fuck!_ Kaecilius had managed to wrench himself out of the spell, flying forward to kick Stephen in the chest and knocking him to the ground. Before he could strike again, Stephen grabbed him by the arm and neck, holding him in place before the changing landscape forced them both to move. Stephen spun to avoid a car, Mordo fighting off the other zealots and trapping one in a tank of water that reformed around her. Above them, the Dark Dimension began to retreat, the Sanctum beginning to restore. When Kaecilius tried to get at the Eye of Agamotto, Mordo wrapped a whip around his leg and slammed him around, throwing him into a wall as bricks arranged themselves around him. He was trapped.

Stephen breathed. “Thanks for that.” The buildings around them were almost complete, a pile of bricks and broken pipes rising to show Wong, impaled on a bloody pipe. “Wong!” The spell brought him back on its own, but Stephen took it a step further, pulling them into time with them. 

Wong gasped, looking around at what was happening then to the glowing Eye of Agamotto.

Stephen sighed. “Breaking the laws of nature, I know.”

Wong looked at the pipe that had killed him, shaking his head. “Well don’t stop now.”

They looked at the building that was reforming before their eyes. “When the Sanctum is restored, they’ll attack again. Come on!”

They ran forward, but at the last moment, Kaecilius broke out of his prison, slamming his fist into the ground and sending out a shockwave that knocked them down. Stephen fell face-first, hitting his head. The spell paused, no longer undoing time, but stopping it completely before the symbol at the apex of the Sanctum had returned. 

Mordo and Wong shakily rose to their feet while Stephen fought to retain consciousness.

“Get up, Stephen!” Mordo said desperately. “Get up and fight! We can finish this!”

Stephen moaned, his hands crying out in pain, his head a lead weight atop his shoulders. Behind them, Kaecilius spoke.

“You can’t fight the inevitable.” His voice was oddly hushed, awed. “Isn’t it beautiful? A world _beyond_ time. Beyond _death_.”

Stephen lifted his head, something like a plan forming. _Beyond time . . ._ Stephen rose, the cloak lifting him into the air as he ignored the shouts of Mordo behind him. _Don’t worry. I’ll try to see you soon._ Blue, red, and purple light filtered over his face as he flew through the Dark Dimension, making him think of Tony. _Oh, my heart . . . I miss you already._

Giant bulbous, almost _pulsating_ spheres surrounded him, covered in craters and ridges and colors both bright and dark and connected by huge strands and bridges, forming something like a web. He landed on one of the spheres, checking the glowing green symbols on his wrist before standing still, waiting.

Before him, a giant eye opened, the pupil larger than Stephen himself and radiating lightning bolts of light and energy. Dormammu stood in front of him, his head larger than the asteroid Stephen stood on, his body bigger than the planet beneath him, his face made of gray skin and red ridges that refused to stay still. 

Stephen stood, refusing to show his fear and praying his plan would work. “Dormammu! I’ve come to bargain!”

“ _You’ve come to die._ ” Dormammu’s voice reverberated through the planet, through space, through the whole universe. “ _Your world is now_ ** _my_ **_world, like_ ** _all_ **_worlds._ ” 

Before Stephen could answer, huge purple spikes rained down on him. He rose two orange shields to protect him, but it wasn’t enough, and he evaporated to nothingness when Dormammu breathed a wave of purple fire on him.

* * *

_WAIT!_

_STOP!_

_GO BACK!_

* * *

Stephen landed before Dormammu, checking his wrist before speaking. “Dormammu! I’ve come to bargain!”

“ _You’ve come to die. Your world is now_ ** _my_ **_world_ —” He stopped, looking around with the face of someone confronted with confusion and resistance for the first time in eternity. “ _What is this . . ._ **_illusion_** _?_ ”

“No,” Stephen said, “this is real.”

“ ** _Good._** ” Two giant daggers of stone fell from the sky, pinning Stephen to the ground, killing him instantly . . .

* * *

_No, that’s not it—_

* * *

His feet fell lightly on the pulsing ground. “Dormammu! I’ve come to bargain.”

“ _You’ve come— what is happening?_ ”

“Just as you gave Kaecilius powers from your dimension, I’ve brought a little _power_ from mine.” He raised his arm, showing off the green symbols that lined it. “ _This_ is time. Endless, looped, _time_.”

“ _You_ **_DARE—_** ” He brought a single huge fist down on Stephen.

“Oh, fuck—"

* * *

_In the space between time, Stephen remembered._

_Victor and Donna running beside him through salty water, splashing each other and laughing so hard he thought they would never stop._

* * *

“Dormammu!” He smiled. “I’ve come to bargain.”

“ _You cannot do this forever._ ”

“Actually, I _can_. This is how things are now. You and me, trapped in this moment, _endlessly_.”

“ _Then you will spend eternity **dying**._”

“Yes,” Stephen said simply, his hands shaking while the rest of him stood firm. “But everyone on Earth will live.” Mordo and Wong would live. Christine and Pepper and Rhodey would live. Victor would live.

Tony would live.

“ _But you will suffer._ ”

He remembered when Tony was kidnapped so long ago now, the thought of never seeing him again, the knowledge of what he was going through and their lost future. “Pain is an old friend.” 

* * *

_He hadn’t thought he would cry. But the words stuck in his throat. He couldn’t speak._

_It didn’t matter. Donna knew. She didn’t seem to know what to say — neither of them were any good with emotions — but she hugged him and shushed him and promised that everything was okay. She wouldn’t think differently of him. He believed her._

* * *

“Dormammu! I’ve come to bargain!”

“ ** _END THIS!_** ”

* * *

_He held a scalpel in his hand for the first time and felt something foreign to him — contentment._

* * *

“Dormammu! I’ve come to bargain!”

* * *

_“Bored?”_

* * *

“Dormammu!”

* * *

_“I love your hands. Have I ever told you that? I should have. There are so many things I should say.”_

_“Start small, then.”_

_“Okay, how's this for small: marry me.”_

* * *

“ _You will never win!_ ”

Stephen breathed, shakily rising to his feet. “No. But I can lose. Again, and again, and again, _forever_.” He stood before the ruler of the Dark Dimension. “And that makes you my prisoner.”

“ _NO!_ _STOP! MAKE THIS—_ ”

* * *

_“I love you.”_

* * *

“ _STOP! SET ME FREE!_ ”

“No,” Stephen said with something like a smile. “I’ve come to bargain.”

“ _What do you want?!_ ”

Stephen rose, levitating before Dormammu’s eyes. “Take your zealots from the Earth. End your assault on my world. _Never_ come back. Do it, and I’ll break the loop.”

Dormammu stared at him with hate in his great purple eyes before screaming.

* * *

“Isn’t it beautiful? A world _beyond_ time. Beyond _death.”_

Stephen landed behind him, seing Mordo and Wong’s shock before facing Kaecilius and smiling. 

Kaecilius stared at him. “What have you done?”

“Oh, me? I made a bargain?”

Kaecilius started to move, but before he could do anything, his hands started to turn to grey ash as purple energy burned them away. “What is this?”

“Well, it’s, uh . . . it’s everything you ever wanted. Eternal life as part of the One.” Mordo and Wong stood beside him, watching with trepidation. “You’re not gonna like it.”

As they watched, Kaecilius and his followers crumbled away. Stephen had a moment when he thought he should do something until he remembered that they would have had it happen to _everyone_. Then he just hoped they were no longer aware of anything. They were lifted into the air, following Dormammu and his retreating Dark Dimension. 

“You really should have stolen the whole book, because sometimes . . . the warnings come _after_ the spells.”

Possibly the scariest thing about the entire day was Wong laughing beside him. 

_. . . Well, okay then._ He raised his hands one last time, restoring the Hong Kong Sanctum to its glory along with everyone in it. When time finally started moving again, everyone walked by as though nothing had happened, and for once there was no blood or fire or pain. 

He lowered his hands, letting out a breath. “We did it.”

Mordo nodded slowly. “Yes, we did.” He looked at Stephen. “By violating the natural law.”

“Mordo,” Stephen said quietly, “it’s over.”

“You still think there will be no consequences, Strange?” His tone was cold. “No price to pay? We broke our rules, just like _her_. The bill comes _due_. A reckoning.”

Stephen shook his head as he realized what was happening, reaching out a hand. _No, not you Mordo, I can’t lose you too—_

Mordo stepped back from him. “I will follow this path no longer.” He looked at Stephen one last time before walking away.

Stephen turned to Wong, his legs weak beneath him. “I need to go.” His hands shook as he removed the Eye of Agamotto. “I need to go to New York. Take this, make sure Kamar-Taj and the Sanctums are—”

“I know what I’m doing, Strange,” Wong said, sounding kinder than normal. “And it is wise not to have you walking around with an Infinity Stone.” He didn’t ask why he needed to go to New York. They both knew. “Go. Do whatever you need to.”

* * *

Tony sucked on his coffee spoon, deciding to turn in for the night. He’d been awake for three days. Any more, and Jar— Friday would whine to Pepper and Christine. Which she was programmed to do, but whatever. 

He was so tired, he almost fell into bed before he saw Stephen standing in front of the window.

Tony stopped, turning on a light. “Stephen? What’s—”

Stephen fell to his knees in front of him, grabbing Tony’s hand and pressing his face to his fiancé’s stomach.

Tony almost jumped, grabbing hold of the nightstand to hold himself up. “Stephen? What’s—”

Stephen shook his head, holding off a sob. “Can we not talk? Can you just hold me? Please?” 

Slowly, Tony nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

* * *

Stephen lay with his cheek to Tony’s heart, speaking for the first time in hours. “Would you believe me if I said I couldn't live without you?”

Tony looked down at him, and his words came out harsher than he meant. “You've done a pretty good job of living without me lately.”

Stephen shook his head. “I've done a very bad job.”

Tony brushed a hand through his hair. “What happened?”

Stephen nuzzled into him, gripping Tony’s shirt so tight, his knuckles turned white. “Something happened today. And I . . . I died.”

Tony started to sit up. “You—”

Stephen shook his head, holding Tony down. “No, let me talk. Let me . . . a lot happened. And I died, and it happened again, and I just had to keep going and . . . I thought of you, you know? I thought of you all the time. You gave me the strength to come back. I know I didn’t . . .” He buried his face in Tony’s neck. “I killed someone.” 

“Stephen . . .” Tony said softly.

“I know that you’ve killed people . . . but it always seemed so distant? And I . . . I just . . . I didn’t want to see you before. I was too ashamed — of myself, of the way I treated you.” He sat up, looking at Tony with tear-filled eyes. “Tony, please, just . . . I need you. I need you and I love you . . . _so much_ . . . and I’m so sorry for how I treated you, you deserve better, _much_ better, and I _know_ that I’m asking too much, I know that I don’t deserve you, but _God_ Tony, I can’t do this without you! I can’t . . . keep doing this without you. And I _tried_ , I tried to pretend I didn't need you. As though missing you didn't feel like having my heart ripped out. I missed you more than I knew you could miss a person.”

“Shhh . . .” Tony held Stephen to his chest, petting his hair. “It’s okay. I’m not going to let anything else happen to you.”

“But you can’t stop it, Tony. I have to go back. They killed The Ancient One. We’ve never been more vulnerable.”

“I know. And it’s really terrifying. But none of it matters because I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Anything that wants to hurt you is going to have to go through me first.”

Stephen stared at him. Tears ran down his cheeks. “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we, Tony?”

Tony nodded and kissed his temple. “Yeah. We’re gonna be okay”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEFORE you come at me with the pitchforks and torches, I want you to take a quick sniff of the air.  
> Do you smell that?  
> It's the next chapter's wedding cake.  
> I don't consider it spoilers if it's to save my life.
> 
> I've decided that Stephen can have prophetic dreams, but literally only if it involves Tony because they have a soul-deep bond and it makes as much sense as anything else in these movies
> 
> A conversation with my friend, whom you might remember as the furry:  
> Me: i had not considered that putting Doctor Strange and Civil War in one chapter would make it really fucking easy to have Tony snap at the end of CW, but damn, this bitch is hanging on by a thread, and it's gonna SNAP  
> Friend: Like a kit kat  
> *later*  
> Friend: Kill your fans  
> Friend: Just fuck over their emotions  
> Me: you don't think i'm trying
> 
> How I imagine this happening if this fic was what the movies were actually like is, Civil War comes out first and you never really see Stephen, you just hear him over the phone, then at the end he comes out of a portal which you can't clearly see, and just takes Tony, and you don't really know what's happening, then you watch Doctor Strange like six months later like "b i t c h"


	10. Spider-Man: Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, for a hot minute, I played with the idea of staving off the wedding for a bit longer. The wedding date would have been just after Infinity War, so Stephen would have died and that would have been another five years they were apart. And then MAYBE you might have gotten a wedding in Endgame, but honestly I just couldn't do that to you guys. It was just TOO mean, even for me. 
> 
> That said, we have reached the fluff portion of our entertainment for the evening. Please enjoy.

_— 2017 —_

There were many advantages to the astral plane.

It was the only where Stephen could escape the pain of his hands. If he fell unconscious during a battle, he could continue helping through it. It was the only way he could sleep apart from Tony. And it allowed him to continue studying the mystic arts even in his sleep.

Of course, it also let him see when Tony was definitely _not_ _sleeping like he was supposed to be._

Stephen watched him for a while before annoyance overcame him and he popped back into the real world, still in his astral form. “What are you doing?”

Tony yelped, almost jumping out of bed before closing his eyes and internally counting to ten, looking at Stephen. “Stop _doing_ that!”

Stephen ignored him, looking over his shoulder at the phone. “What are you looking at?”

“Will you at least get in your body if you’re gonna talk to me?” Stephen was sleeping soundly beside him, one hand resting on Tony’s hip. 

“Why would I when I’m sleeping so well?” He phased through part of Tony’s body to see the phone, paying no mind to his indignant noise. “Oh, how’s the kid doing?” 

“That’s what I was trying to see!” Tony huffed. “Stephen, I know I never say this, but get out of me.”

Smiling, Stephen obeyed, floating beside his fiancé. “How is he?”

“Eager,” Tony said with a mix of annoyance and fondness. “The amount of times he feels he has to reassure me it’s him is worrying. And he’s been bouncing around New York like he had ten too many five hour energy drinks ever since he got back from Germany. Oh, someone bought him a churro earlier!”

“Aw, Tony, are you going soft in your old age?”

“I’ll show you soft.”

“. . . Okay, honey.”

* * *

The New York Sanctum was a very creepy place.

At least, that’s what Tony thought the first time he went there. Now he was getting used to the way the hallways changed place and length to get you where you needed to go. If anything, it was helpful since all the doors were the same and no one actually knew where anything was. And the relics? Excellent decorating decisions. He wasn’t even a little scared that they would kill him in his sleep. Anymore. 

Stephen certainly didn’t seem to mind. He slept comfortably beside Tony whether he stayed in his body or not, curled along his side. Sometimes Tony liked to wake him up by playing with his new beard (he wasn’t even mad that Stephen stole his look). And if he did that because every noise seemed amplified and like it was coming specifically to kill him when he was alone, then Stephen didn’t need to know. And if Stephen _did_ know, then he didn’t need to say anything. 

Stephen woke up slowly that night, squinting at Tony in annoyance. “Can I help you?”

“I can’t just want to talk?” Tony asked innocently. 

Stephen muttered, pulling a pillow over his head. 

Tony waited.

Irritated, Stephen let out a muffled, “Talk.”

Tony rested his head next to Stephen(‘s pillow). “I think I want to sell the tower.”

Slowly, Stephen came out from the pillow. “Are you serious?”

Tony nodded.

Stephen sighed, sitting up. “Why?”

“Well I don’t really need it anymore, do I? Most of the other Avengers are either war criminals or in space, and Vision spends most of his time at the compound anyway. All of the Stark buildings and factories run on clean energy now, so it’s not the same statement it used to be.”

It would have been more than enough explanation for anyone else, but Stephen waited. 

It took a minute for Tony to get in. “It’s just . . . more bad memories than good.”

Tony rested his head on Stephen’s chest while Stephen traced patterns along his arm. “I miss the mansion.” California seemed like a dream, they hadn’t been there so long. Stephen sometimes wished Tony had proposed to him there instead of the tower. 

Tony nodded. “Yeah.” 

They lay in awkward silence. 

“You don’t need my permission,” Stephen said quietly. “We’re not . . .”

They stared at each other, neither wanting to acknowledge it. Stephen couldn’t stop Tony if he wanted to; the tower wasn’t his property because they weren’t married and Tony had never changed it.

“I am asking though. It’s your home too.”

Stephen smiled sadly. “Then do it.”

* * *

Stephen made notes on Rhodey’s file, occasionally pointing something out while Tony and Rhodey worked on the man’s physical therapy. Rhodey looked over at him, joking, “Aren't you supposed to be busy up at that fancy wizard school? Hogwarts won't miss you?”

Stephen returned his smile, floating by a table with the Cloak of Levitation on his back. “For you Rhodey, I can make time.”

“‘Make time’, is that code for something? Gonna send me back to college with your voodoo?”

“Only if you ask nicely.” 

Rhodey rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Ask nicely, he says. I’ve walked by your bedroom before Strange, I’ll leave Tony to _ask nicely_.”

Stephen was deciding between a laugh or a retort when Friday’s voice rang through the compound room. “Boss, Peter Parker is currently drowning in a lake in Queens—”

Tony cursed, rising suddenly and shouting orders, “Friday, send one of the rescue bots and get the Shotgun armor—”

Stephen stood as Tony spoke, calling to mind the pictures of Peter that Tony had shown him and taking his sling ring from his belts, spinning a circle made of orange sparks. “C’mon!” He ran through without waiting for Tony, emerging above a lake before setting down on the ground. “Cloakie, get him.”

The Cloak was moving before he’d even spoken, shedding from his back and diving into the water, invisible in the darkness. Stephen wanted nothing more than to go down himself, but he knew that if he did, he would become trapped in the memories of his last moments with Donna, of trying and failing to save someone he loved, and was just as likely to drown them both as to save him.

Tony finally joined him, moving like a streak of lightning in the armor designed to go sonic speeds. “Where’s the kid?”

“The Cloak is getting him,” Stephen said quietly, watching the water and trying not to think of Donna’s bloated blue corpse trapped at the bottom.

“You sent the _piece of fabric—_ ”

Cloakie shot out of the water, Peter in his red-and-blue Spider-Man suit wrapped up in the sentient clothing. Tony and Stephen went to either side of him when the Cloak dropped him on the ground, propping him up while Cloakie wrung water out of itself. 

Peter got to his feet dizzily, pulling off his mask and holding his head in his hands. “Oh my God, what was that red thing— Mister Stark!” His eyes widened further when he saw Stephen. “And Mister- I mean Doctor Stephen! Doctor Strange! Hi!” He started to hold out his hand a few times before trapping it in his hair. “It’s so nice to meet you! I read about you on this Tumblr post once! You’re really cool! I think that was before you got all— do you have powers now? What’s this — is it a cloak or cape or blanket? — made of? Are you—” He looked at Stephen’s blue robes and the red cloak before looking at his own suit. “Hey! We match!”

Stephen finally held up his hands, tempted to silence him magically. “That’s . . . that’s great, why don’t you tell us what happened?”

Shivering, Peter launched into a story of arms dealers selling alien tech that he had chased through Queens before their accomplice (who, unlike Barton and Wilson, had really stuck to his bird theme) descended on him from the sky. “And then he just, like, swooped down like a monster and he picked me up and he took me up, like, a _thousand_ feet and, and I used the parachute to escape, and he just _dropped_ me, but I got all tangled up and fell in the water.” He paused, taking a breath. “How’d you find me? Did you put a tracker in my suit or something?”

“I found you,” Stephen said. “Don’t worry about how.”

“I actually did put a tracker in your suit,” Tony said. “I put everything in your suit. Including this heater.”

Steam rose from Peter, immediately drying the suit. “Ohhh, that’s better. Thanks.”

Tony was staring at him (though it was always hard to tell through the armor). “What were you thinking?”

“The guy with the wings is obviously the source of the weapons! I gotta take him down!”

Stephen shook his head patronizingly. “Yeah, okay, Mister Kindergarten. There are people who handle this sort of thing.”

“Like the Avengers?”

“Well, no,” Tony said, “this is a little below our pay grade.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely below mine.” It wasn’t like anyone learned magic with the intention of stopping petty criminals. You take five minutes out of your job to stop a thief, and suddenly eight different interdimensional beings were riding your ass. (He still hadn’t told Tony that there was a clone of himself at the Sanctum handling his job while they were at the compound.)

Peter sighed. “You guys didn’t have to come all the way out here, I was fine.”

Stephen raised a brow at that. “You were drowning.”

“Just a little bit.”

Stephen thought Tony might be going just the tiniest bit crazy now that he was faced with a miniature version of himself. “Look, forget the flying vulture guy, please.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because I said so!” 

“Tony,” Stephen said warningly. 

Tony sighed, clearly frustrated. “Teenagers. Look, just stay close to the ground, okay? Build up your game helping little people, like that lady that bought you the churro. Can’t you just be a friendly . . . I don’t know . . . neighborhood Spider-Man?”

“But I’m ready for more than that now!”

“ _No_ , you’re not.”

“That’s not what you thought when I took on Captain America!”

Stephen looked at Tony sharply. “You took him to fight Rogers?”

Tony very clearly did not want to have that conversation just then. “It was a tough situation, you know that. And kid, if Cap wanted to lay you out, he would’ve, okay. If you come across these weapons again, call Happy. In the meantime, try to focus on your life for a bit. You know, it’s never too early to start thinking about college. I got some pull at MIT.”

“I don’t want to—”

Stephen raised a hand, halting both of them. “Tony, why don’t you go back to the compound, and I’ll make sure Peter gets home safe.” He never raised his voice or sounded angry, but his tone left no room for compromise. 

Tony tried to stare him down but ultimately sighed, opening his faceplate just long enough to give Stephen a kiss on the cheek before speeding off. As the Cloak settled over his shoulders, Stephen turned to Peter. “Shall we walk?”

Peter didn’t object, seeming deflated as they trekked across the park. Stephen waited a minute before speaking. “When I was sixteen, my older sister drowned in a lake just like you almost did a few minutes ago.”

Peter looked like he’d been punched. “Oh my God, I didn’t—”

Stephen shook his head. “I’m not telling you for your pity or condolences. Vishanti know I’ve had enough. My point is that it was not exactly fun to see it almost happen again. And it would have been far worse if Tony and I hadn’t gotten here in time.”

Peter ducked his head, like a dog with its tail between its legs. 

Stephen continued. “It's not easy to be helpless to protect people, especially the ones you care about most.” On the nights he didn’t escape into the astral plane, dreams of Donna and the zealot he murdered haunted him, not to mention the ones of Tony dying that felt more and more like a reality every day. 

“Yeah,” Peter said quietly, his eyes wet. “I know.” Stephen remembered that the boy’s uncle had died not long after he gained his powers.

Stephen’s eyes softened. “Donna was . . . brilliant. Smart and willful and gone before her time. She loved people, she loved to talk to them, to help them. She would have outshone the sun given the chance.” He’d known Peter for less than an hour, but already he reminded him of that long-gone light. He even had the same brown eyes and softness to his features that Donna did. “You're going to do great things one day, Peter. But you've got to _get there_ first.”

Peter nodded, silent and ashamed.

“Just . . . try to be careful, okay? We might not always be there to keep you safe. And listen to Tony. He knows what he’s doing, though he’d never admit it.”

“Yeah,” Peter said, nodding slowly. “I’ll try.”

* * *

Stephen and Tony lounged in the library after Wong had gone to sleep, the sorcerer reading a book and wearing the gloves Tony had given him to help hold it steady while Tony tinkered mindlessly. They sat in fraught silence for over an hour before Tony said, “We’ve started moving stuff to the compound.” 

Stephen looked up from his book. “Oh.”

Tony nodded awkwardly. “Yep.”

Stephen closed the book, shuffling in his chair, wishing he could go over to the couch and lay across Tony’s lap like he used to. “That’s . . . happening.”

“Yeah.” His hands played with a pair of blue-tinted sunglasses. “And I was thinking that . . . since I’m already staying here a lot and the compound is so . . . compoundy, that I could maybe move in here. Permanently. Or semi-permanently, and is that even allowed? I’m not a warlock. I’m not even a wizard. I tried to make a love potion once when I was fourteen and stupid, does that count? You know what, forget it, I don’t even know what I was thinking—”

“I could install a permanent portal between here and the compound,” Stephen said before Tony could dig himself deeper. Their relationship was so fragile but so precious to him, like a glass-spun gem that he kept desperately close to his chest, scared of breaking it, but even more scared of putting it down. “Then you could live here but be able to get there quickly if there was an emergency. And we wouldn’t have to move your stuff from there to here again. No need to . . . make a big deal of it.”

“Yeah,” Tony said, nodding quickly. “Yeah, I mean, we’ve lived together almost always for years.”

“Right. And you’ve been staying over for the past week.”

“Exactly!” Tony said, wincing at his own voice. “So it’s not even a thing or whatever.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

They stared at each other.

“Do you want to watch TV?”

“Please.”

* * *

Stephen idly stirred his tea, gloved hands just barely shaking. “What do you think I should do?”

Christine stared at him. “You’re eating up my valuable lunchtime for _this_? Stephen, it’s your husband!”

“We’re not—”

“Wait, I just remembered.” Christine rested her head in her hand. “Fuck, it really feels like you guys are already married. Are you sure?”

“ _Christine_.”

“For fuck’s sake Stephen, just _be_ with him. Let it just happen, don’t stress about every little thing. So you fucked up and left for a year. Tony invited a terrorist to your house once and it got blown up. If you can get through that, you can get through this. 

Stephen tilted his head. “Well, when you put it like that, I seem downright reasonable.”

“No. No, you don’t. Jesus _Christ_ , you don’t.”

* * *

Tony put his hand over Stephen’s, turning, watching the colors change. They stared at each other. “It’s fine.”

They stared at each other before speaking at the same time. “Do you want to lie down—”

“—go to dinner?”

They stared at each other.

“Dinner is fine—”

“That sounds good—”

They stopped, looking at each other awkwardly before laughing. “God, we’re a mess,” Stephen said, grinning. He calmed down slightly, cupping Tony’s cheek and drawing him closer. “Let’s go to bed.”

* * *

They both slept peacefully that night, curled up in each other’s arms. When Stephen woke, he pressed a soft kiss to Tony’s forehead and didn’t move.

* * *

Tony kept smacking his shoulder, completely ruining the peaceful vibe he had going on. “Stephen, Stephen, _Stephen—_ ”

Stephen slapped his hand away, groaning. “What?”

“Look at this.” He shoved his phone in Stephen’s face. Stephen thought about throwing the phone across the room, but then he saw the video playing. 

He sat up, snatching the phone from Tony and staring. _Spider-Man Climbs Washington Monument and Saves Decathalon Team._ “By the Vishanti . . .”

Tony nodded. “Gonna pretend to understand that.” He smiled, watching Peter smashed into one of the monument’s windows, the camera not showing the classmates he saved. “He did good, didn’t he?”

“He did,” Stephen said, pulling Tony into his lap. 

“We should do something nice for him. Like, a nice dinner or a month-long trip to England.”

“Maybe something in between.”

* * *

Tony had finally decided that a week-long trip to Switzerland to see CERN as a nice reward and decided to go ahead and call Peter. “Friday, call the kid.”

“He’s in the suit at the moment, sir.”

“Perfect, put me through.”

“Mister Parker,” Tony said when Peter ‘answered’, “got a sec?”

“Um . . .” Peter said nervously. “Actually, I’m at school.”

Tony ignored him. “I wanted to say, nice work in D.C. You know, my dad never really gave me a lot of support, and I’m just . . . trying to break the cycle of shame.”

“That’s really, um, great Mister Stark,” Peter said hurriedly, “but I—”

“Don’t cut me off when I’m complimenting you!” _Honestly, teenagers._ “Anyway, Stephen and I were thinking of—”

A horn blew in the background, making him pause. “What was that?”

“Oh, I’m at . . . band practice!”

 _What sort of bullshit . . ._ “That’s odd, you quit band six weeks ago. What’s up?”

“I gotta go! End call!”

“Hey, don’t you— oh, you little shit.” He stood up. “Stephen! Get your wizard clothes on!”

* * *

They were lucky they made it in time. Stephen started evacuating people as Tony and some bots pushed the sides of the ferry together and lasered the sliced edges so they’d stick.

Peter followed him on a string of web, unable to contain his nerves despite the mask. 

“Uh, Mister Stark? Could I do anything? What do you want me to do?”

“I think you’ve done enough.” The ferry would be hauled to shore soon. He could see Stephen down on the deck where the cars had been. The sorcerer nodded, assuring him that everyone was safe and gone. Tony breathed in relief, flying off. 

Later, he found Peter perched on the edge of a roof with his mask off, watching the ships and helicopters that surrounded the ferry.

Tony flew up behind him, landing on the roof. “Previously on _Peter Screws the Pooch_ : I tell you to stay away from this. Instead, you _hacked a multimillion-dollar suit_ so you could sneak around behind my back doing the _one_ thing I told you not to do!”

Peter’s back was to him. “Is everyone okay?”

“No thanks to you,” Tony said harshly, angry beyond belief. 

Peter stilled before turning to look at him. “No thanks to me?” He stood, running up to him. “Those weapons were out there, and I tried to tell you about it. But you didn’t listen! None of this would’ve happened if you had just _listened to me!”_

The suit opened, allowing Tony to step down. Peter quickly backed up when he did, immediately wary. “I listened, kid. Who do you think called the FBI?” Peter kept backing up, but Tony followed him. “Do you know that I was the only one who believed in you? Everyone else said I was _crazy_ to recruit a fourteen-year-old kid.”

“I’m— I’m fifteen—”

“No, this is where you _zip it,_ all right! The adult is talking! God, Peter, what if somebody had died today? If that happened, if that _happens_ , it’s on _you_. And if you died . . .” Tony shook his head, forcing himself to look at him. “That’s on me. I can’t let that happen.”

“Yes, sir, I know, and I, I’m _sorry—_ ”

Tony shook his head. “Sorry doesn’t cut it.”

“I know, I do, I understand,” Peter said, stumbling over his words, his hands flailing around before dropping to his side. “I just— I just wanted to be like you.”

 _Oh, kid._ “And I wanted you to be better.” 

Peter looked away, unable to bear Tony’s eyes on him anymore.

Tony sighed. “Okay, it’s not working out. I’m gonna need the suit back.”

Peter stared at him. “For how long?”

“Forever.”

Peter shook his head, a step away from falling apart completely. “No, no, Mister Stark, _please—_ ”

“I can’t trust you with it. This is how it works.”

“You don’t understand,” Peter begged, real tears in his eyes. “ _Please_ , this is all I have. I’m _nothing_ without this suit!”

His left arm was twitching in pain. It seemed to do that all the time these days. He wondered if Stephen’s hands were giving him trouble. “If you’re nothing without this suit, then you shouldn’t have it.” He’d hardly ever seen someone so devastated. Tony sighed, turning away. “God, I sound like my dad. C’mon, Stephen and I’ll take you home.”

“I . . . I don’t have any clothes.”

 _Oh, this is sad._ “We’ll sort that out.”

* * *

Stephen looked up from his book every few minutes to cast a condescending look at Tony and say, “Hm.”

Tony sighed the thirteenth time this happened. “ _What?_ ”

Stephen shrugged, not looking at him. “Nothing.”

“Why are you being passive-aggressive? You’re normally just aggressive-aggressive. I’ve seen you scream at someone for eating all of the frosted flakes.”

“It’s not my fault Barton never learned how to keep his hands off other people’s things.”

“Stephie.” Tony got up and shut his book, making the other man look at him. “Baby.”

Stephen looked at him with distaste. “Just annoyed. We were supposed to help Peter pick out his homecoming, but instead I have to sit here, being annoyed.”

“Oh, come off it. I’m just trying to look out for the kid! He was taking too many risks!”

Stephen re-opened his book. “Whatever you say, dear.” 

Tony pushed the book down to Stephen’s lap. “Will you please just come in the bedroom? I have something to show you.”

“I refuse.”

“If you don’t, it could burn the Sanctum down. Total fire hazard. Wong’ll be annoyed.”

Stephen immediately stood up, leaving his book on a table. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Tony, what did you do?”

Tony smiled victoriously, following Stephen to the bedroom.

“Tony, I _swear_ , if you’ve—” He froze when he saw lit candles that filled the room, casting a warm glow over them. When he turned around, Tony was already on his knees, holding out a new ring, made of polished grey shrapnel.

“Stephen, I know this is my third time asking this, but I felt it needed saying because honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure where we stood with each other. But I know where I want to stand with you. Because we’ve both made a lot of mistakes, and you . . . are not the person I fell in love with at first, but I'm not who I was. We're both different, and I _hope_ we’re both better. I want us to be better together. So, Stephen . . . will you marry me?”

Stephen stared for an eternity or seconds before saying, “Oh _God_ , yes.”

* * *

“No more than a month,” Stephen said later, lying naked in bed with Tony for the first time in months. “I don’t want to waste any time, not anymore.”

“Right. I’ll clear a week, start ordering stuff tomorrow.”

“And not a lot of people. I can’t imagine even _trying_ to put up with more than twenty people at a time anymore.”

“Cut the guest list down to the bare essentials, got it.”

“And you’re gonna invite the kid, right?”

“ _Yes_ , I’ll invite the damn kid.”

* * *

“You know, I don’t think I’m being too hard on him!”

Stephen didn’t respond.

“And he hacked his suit! He turned off all the safety features and got rid of the tracker! He could have died!”

Nothing.

“Oh, don’t give me that look! Yes, I know I’m just as bad! And he’s a kid, and he probably just needs more guidance. And maybe I was too hands-off, but it’s not like I know what I’m doing! Who left me in charge!”

Stephen waited. 

“I just don’t want him to get hurt, you know? The kid’s tough, he could throw an elephant, but that doesn’t mean he’s ready to be a hero! Not to say he could _never_ be ready. And, at this point in his life, he needs help more than ever . . .”

Sometimes, it really was too easy.

“Okay, you convinced me. I'll give him back the suit, but it's going to be different. There are going to be _rules_. And training, he needs to go through training. And he needs to learn when something is too much for him and he should leave it to the adults or call for help. And— why are you looking at me like that?”

Stephen smiled. “I’m just happy.”

* * *

Peter screamed for help, not bothering to keep the tears from running down his face, the stone on his back crushing him. But no one was coming. There wasn’t anyone for miles around, and if Toomes heard him and came back, he would just kill him.

He was alone.

Peter lay there, wondering how long it would take him to die or if anyone would look for him, would even care to, when he saw his mask lying in a puddle of dirty water, covering half of his reflection. 

_If you’re nothing without this suit, then you shouldn’t have it._

_You're going to do great things one day, Peter. But you've got to get there first._

_I’m not dying here._ He breathed deeply, once, twice, three times, and steeled his spine before pushing back against the rubble that weighed him down. “Come on, Peter, come on, Spider-Man.” He started to lift, his arms screaming out from the pain and stress. He didn’t stop. “ _Come on!_ ” His back was going to break, a thousand times he was going to break, but he refused, he couldn’t stop, could _never_ stop. “ _Come on, Spider-Man!_ ”

The stone moved, and he moved with it. 

* * *

Tony and Stephen looked at Happy through the screen.

“. . . So. You’re not gonna like this.”

* * *

Stephen touched down behind Peter, the teenager beaten and battered, with sweat and grime and blood all over his face. “You look tired.” Peter barely even tried to turn and see him. “Want me to take you home?”

“My date’s dad tried to kill me.”

Stephen nodded sympathetically. “Ice cream first, then.”

* * *

Tony walked down the stairs of the compound, spotting Happy and Peter next to one of the new doors. “Oh, there they are.” They both turned to him. “How was the ride up?”

“Good,” Happy said, still seeming nervous after Toomes almost stole about a thousand arc reactors during moving day.

“Great. Give me a minute with the kid. C’mon, move it, I gotta talk to the kid. Boundaries, Happy, boundaries.” When Happy was trailing safely behind them, Tony put an arm around Peter’s shoulder, feeling awfully fatherly as he led him forward. “Sorry I took your suit. I mean, you had it coming. Actually, it turns out it was the perfect sort of tough-love moment that you needed, right? To urge you on, right? Wouldn’t you think? Don’t you think?”

“Um . . .”

“Let’s just say it was.” 

Peter nodded, looking down repentantly. “Mister Stark, I—”

“You screwed the pooch hard,” Tony said, opening a door and gesturing Peter in. “Big time. But then you did the right thing. Took the dog to the free clinic, you raised the hybrid puppies . . .”

“Tony,” Stephen said, sitting in a chair and wearing a nice blue suit with Cloakie disguised as a red tie, “you’re taking that metaphor _far_ past its natural stopping point. Just let it die.”

“I was just about to do that. But my point is that we were wrong—”

“ _We_ were wrong?”

“ _I_ was wrong about you, Peter,” Tony said. “I think, with a little more mentoring, you could be a real asset to the team.”

Peter looked up in surprise. “To the— to the _team?_ ”

“Yeah. And there’s about fifty reporters behind _that_ door — real one, not bloggers.” He tapped his watch, opening a secret compartment in one of the walls. The shining red, blue, and gold Iron Spider suit came into view, ready to be shone off after he’d spent months putting the final touches on it before Peter messed up, then the next few weeks finishing it for real when he felt bad. “When you’re ready, try it on, and I’ll introduce the world to the newest official member of the Avengers: Spider-Man.”

Peter stared at the suit in awe, not even speaking.

“Don’t let Tony take all the credit,” Stephen piped in. “I put some very nice protective . . . programs into it.”

“I did most of the work.”

“I did the _best_ work, though.”

Tony shook his head. “He’s _such_ a braggart. Don’t even listen to anything he says, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s high on painkillers.”

Stephen smiled playfully. “Douchebag.”

“Asshole.” He turned back to Peter, who was still admiring the suit. “So, after the press conference, Happy will show you to your new quarters in the compound. There’s a really easy way to get to Greenwich from here, but Stephen says I shouldn’t show you that yet. Oh, I think you’re next to Vision? Right, Happy?”

“Yeah,” Happy said, “Vision’s not big on doors. Or walls.”

“It’s fun,” Stephen lied. “You’ll fit right in.”

Peter looked between them and the suit, hesitating. His smile seemed to fall somewhat. “Thank you, Mister Stark. But I’m good.”

Tony stared at him. “Good? How are you good?”

“I’d just . . .” Peter shrugged. “I’d rather look out for the little guy. Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, right?”

“You turning me down? Stephen, is that what’s happening?”

“Looks like it,” Stephen said, seeming mildly impressed, something even Tony had trouble doing. 

Tony pointed at Peter with his pink-tinted sunglasses. “You better think about this. Look at that suit, look how cool that is. Last chance, yes or no.”

“No.”

 _Well, that was abrupt._ “Okay. It’s kind of a Springsteen-y, working-class hero vibe that I dig. Happy will take you home. Yeah?”

“Yeah. Thank you, Mister Stark. And you too, Doctor Strange.”

Stephen smiled, nodding his acknowledgment as Tony said goodbye and Peter started to leave with Happy.

The kid stopped at the last moment, looking back at them. “That was a test, right? There’s nobody back there?”

“Exactly,” Tony said. “You passed, great job. Alright, skedaddle there.”

“Ok. Thank you, Mister Stark.”

“You’re welcome and thank you.” Peter left with Happy. Stephen and Tony looked at each other. “He really did that, huh?”

“He did,” Stephen said, unable to resist a small smile. “It was very mature of him, in my opinion.”

“Well, he’s a good kid, you know? Get’s that from me.” Tony smiled . . .

. . . before the door opened behind him, and Pepper came through, a mob of reporters outside asking her questions before she shut the door on them. “Where’s the kid?”

“He left,” Stephen explained with a smirk, watching Tony turn away so she couldn’t see his face. 

“Are you kidding me? Everybody’s waiting!”

“You know, he actually made a really mature choice? Tony and I were just talking about it.” He leaned up, smiling at his fiancé. “Weren’t we, Tony?”

“It did. We were all very surprised.”

Pepper scowled at them. “How did you guys screw this up so fast?”

“Tony did it!” “Stephen did it!”

Pepper was unamused. “I have a room full of people waiting for some big announcement. What am I gonna tell them?”

“Um . . .” Tony turned to Stephen. “Are you wearing it?” Before he could answer, Tony’s fingers traced around his neck, finding the chain his engagement ring rested on, the metal too painful for his scarred hands. 

Stephen looked at him. “Seriously?”

“What, it’s something to announce!”

Stephen shook his head, standing up and kissing Tony softly. “Fine. But I’m not taking any questions.”

“Totally. And actually, afterwards can you do me a quick favor and drop something off at Peter’s apartment? I think he’s gonna really like it.”

* * *

The day of the wedding came too fast and not fast enough. 

For once, Stephen was the nervous wreck while Tony was absolutely serene as they got ready. 

“Why aren't you nervous?”

Tony smiled, wiping shaving cream from Stephen’s face. “Because I am so ready to be married to you.”

His hands were shaking. “What if I mess up again? What if—”

Tony drew him forward, kissing him soundly and holding him by his hair. “We probably both are, fifty times each. And it’ll still be okay. You and me, we can put up with each other. We’re worth that. This . . . this is worth everything.”

* * *

Pepper was silent as she stared at Stephen’s suit, dirty and torn and somehow burnt (and possibly still on fire). 

Peter looked like he was about to start bawling his eyes out, not even knowing how he’d managed to fuck up so badly on _this day_ of all days. Ned had already passed out on a couch. He was the lucky one. “I know, I know, this is a disaster and it’s all my fault—”

Pepper, still silent, went to her closet and took out a new, identical suit and handed it to him. “Take this to Stephen, he never knows.”

* * *

Stephen was the last through the portal to Maria Stark’s house in Italy, everything already set up. Christine looked at him, looking like a goddess in her pale gold dress. “Are you ready?”

Stephen smiled. “I’ve never been more ready for anything.”

* * *

They met in the middle of the aisle.

It was an idea Stephen had liked three years ago and he still did. They met in the middle, together, and his hands were oddly painless when they intertwined with Tony’s.

The wedding consisted of less than twenty people, including the grooms. Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy, obviously. Christine and Wong. Peter and his friend Ned, who Tony said could come because he didn't always pay the closest attention when people asked him for stuff. Vision seemed mildly confused but happy to be there. Harley managed to fly in. The bots were there to support their dads. Friday was recording. Far from the original guest list of four hundred people.

It was perfect.

“Tony,” Rhodey said, standing before them as their officiant. “Do you have your vows?”

“I do. And I was thinking of doing some jokes, but I actually don’t really want to do that. Because this . . . is so important to me. _You_ are so important to me. Stephen, I promise that I will love you no matter what. And, _always_ trust you with everything I am. And . . . protect you. I'm going to do whatever it takes to protect you and I will . . . always catch you when you fall.” His hand moved up to Stephen’s wrist, squeezing softly. “Always.”

Stephen smiled softly, blue-green eyes shining. “Tony . . . the past ten years have been hell, filled with blood and pain and loss. I’ve screamed and yelled and cried more times than I can count. Every time I thought I would lose you, I felt like I was dying, and a part of me wished I was. And I’d do it all again. Every day, hour, minute, second. I’d do them a thousand times, because it’s you. And I want you. More than anything, I want you, to be with you.”

Rhodey, who’d been worried there for a moment, smiled at them. “Rings?”

Pepper passed Tony one, and Christine did the same for Stephen. 

“Stephen,” Rhodey said, “do you take Tony to be your husband? Do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect him, forsaking all others, and holding only unto him forever?”

Stephen put Tony’s ring, made of the metal from a dying star, on his hand, rubbing soft patterns on the palm. “I do.”

“Tony, do you take Stephen to be your husband? Do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect him, forsaking all others, and holding only unto him forever?” 

Tony put the necklace over Stephen’s bowed head, gently holding the ring for a moment before he spoke. “I do.”

Rhodey wasn’t trying to hold back his tears anymore. “And now, by the power vested in me by the state of New York, it is my genuine honor to pronounce you husband and husband. You can kiss. I know you’ve been waiting for it.”

Stephen barely heard him. He held Tony’s face like he was precious, leaning down to kiss him, and when he did, he never let go.

* * *

Christine bumped Pepper’s shoulder. “Hey.” She gestured to Ned. “Do we know that kid?”

Before Pepper could respond, Rhodey came over, eyes searching the room. “Where’s the happy couple? They’re supposed to have the first dance in like, two minutes.”

“They’re probably off consummating the marriage,” Pepper said, smiling.

Christine shook her head. “Just couldn’t wait for the wedding night.”

Outside, in the courtyard under the stars with only a few faint lanterns to help them see, Stephen and Tony danced while music played from Tony’s phone. 

Stephen thought for a moment before saying, “‘Apocalypse’, Cigarettes After Sex, released this year.”

“Damn it. I was hoping you wouldn’t know this one.” 

Stephen smiled. “It’s a good choice. I think Pepper was gonna have us dance to ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love With You’.” 

“We dodged a bullet, then.”

_Kisses on the foreheads of the lovers wrapped in your arms_

_You’ve been hiding them in hollowed out pianos left in the dark_

_Got the music in you baby, tell me why_

_Got the music in you baby, tell me why_

_You've been locked in here forever and you just can't say goodbye_

Stephen rested his head on Tony’s chest, floating above the ground with the Cloak and Tony’s nanite boots. “I like it this way. Just you and me.”

“I do too.”

“We already did that part.”

_Your lips, my lips, apocalypse_

“Are we okay now, Tony?”

_Oh, when you're all alone, I will reach for you_

_When you're feeling low, I will be there too_

Tony nodded, kissing him softly. “Yeah. We’re okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, Peter bawled during the wedding.
> 
> Me: *knows the wedding is going to end up being very small and toned down*  
> Also me: *makes an unnecessarily extravagant ironstrange wedding pinterest board anyway*
> 
> No one cares, but [here's](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLtdXuvShwBwM8VBmQ0Dv0KSRC8w6xmdJo)  
> my ironstrange wedding playlist
> 
> Stephen: Children? Um, no. Disgusting. Do not want.  
> *meets Peter*  
> Stephen: Tony, where do you keep the adoption papers?
> 
> Stephen and Tony: *happy, married, kissing softly*  
> Me in the background: *holding a bat that says Infinity War/Endgame"


	11. Thor: Ragnarok

_— 2018 —_

Honestly, he didn’t need this bullshit.

He was supposed to be meeting with the mayor soon to discuss a donation for the city’s schools, not to mention they were having a big dinner later, but now he had to deal with Thor _finally_ popping back to Earth, only with his brother in tow. 

First thing he did was drop Loki in a portal going nowhere and left his address for Thor to find. He wanted to pour himself a glass of wine, but they were still an alcohol-free family. Instead, he got himself a cup of herbal tea and waited.

When Thor knocked, Stephen teleported him inside, leaving him in the relics room while he collected his patience. A moment later, he appeared behind him, floating in the Cloak of Levitation and wearing the gloves Tony gave him. “Thor Odinson?” 

Thor snapped to attention as Stephen levitated into his view. “Stephen Strange?”

Stephen’s smile was strained. “How . . . nice to see you.” He looked at what he assumed was Mjolnir in disguise. “You can put the umbrella down.” 

Thor gave him a dirty look before slowly setting it on a stand. In an instant, Stephen pulled them into the parlor, standing against a wall while Thor looked around.

The Asgardian absently picked up a decorative arrow from a set, pointing at Tony. “So Tony Stark's boyfriend is a wizard, now?”

“Husband. You missed the wedding.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“It's fine, you weren’t invited anyway.”

“What—” He dropped the arrow on the table, knocking over the rest of them and scrambling to fix them.

“Also, the preferred term is ‘Master of the Mystic Arts’, you can stop that.”

Thor gratefully did so. “Why did you bring me here?”

“I have a matter of great importance to discuss with you. Take a seat.” He didn’t even have to move his hand to sit them both in the parlour, blowing Thor’s hair back. “Tea?”

A cup appeared in his hand. “I don’t drink tea.”

“I know. Drink it anyway.”

Thor reluctantly obeyed, sipping awkwardly. 

Stephen continued. “Part of my new job is to keep a watch list of individuals and beings from other realms that may be a threat to this world. Your brother Loki is one of these beings.”

“A worthy inclusion,” Thor said, grimacing when his tea refilled. 

Stephen stamped down on the urge to smirk. “So what exactly made you think it was a good idea to bring your mass-murderer, would-be conqueror brother back to Earth?”

Thor looked at him awkwardly. “We're looking for my father.”

Stephen leaned his head to the side, thinking. “So, if I were to tell you where Odin was, you would return promptly to Asgard?”

Thor nodded. “Promptly. But . . . if you knew where he was, why didn't you call me?”

Stephen shrugged. “I have to tell you, he was adamant that he not be disturbed. Odin said he had chosen to remain in exile.” He squinted at him. “And you don't have a phone.”

“Well, no, but you could have sent an electronic letter. It's called an email.” Thor smiled like he’d outsmarted him.

 _Oh, Vishanti save me._ “Do you have a computer?”

“No, why?”

 _One, two, three . . ._ “Right. How silly of me.”

Thor smiled smugly. “Anyway, my father is no longer in exile. So if you could tell me where he is, I can take him home.”

“Gladly. He’s in Norway. Now, let’s get you out of my sight.” He stood, transporting them to the library. Thor almost fell, grabbing hold of a bookcase and sloshing tea all over the place. Stephen ignored him, flipping through a book. “I'm just seeing whether this incantation requires any Asgardian modifications . . .” He looked up, shutting the book. “Nope.”

They moved to a different room, Stephen quickly gathering what he needed while Thor got tea all over his shirt. “Will you stop _doing_ that?!”

“Yeah, I’m gonna need a strand of your hair.”

“Listen to me Stark-Strange, my hair is _not_ to be meddled with—”

Stephen teleported behind him a yanked a hair from his head, infusing it with magic and twisting it into a number of orange-gold symbols before moving them to the bottom of the front staircase, sending Thor rolling down the stairs. 

Thor looked up at him in annoyance. “Are you done?!”

“. . . No.” He told himself he wouldn’t do it, but he spun open a portal, leading back into the room, dropping Thor through it so he was falling in an infinite loop of portals. 

“Stop— let me— STRANGE!”

Stephen watched in delight for a little while, even taking a video to show Tony. “Oh, okay, that’s enough.” He closed the portal, dropping Thor flat on his face. Stephen stood above him. “I’m not going to lie, that was _extremely_ satisfying.”

“What did I ever do to you?”

“You picked up my husband by the throat as a threat and didn’t let him go until you were made to by Rogers.”

“. . . Oh.”

“Yeah. Now let’s get your brother.”

* * *

"Peter, Tony,” Stephen called from the Sanctum’s kitchen. “Come get the food, I’m not carrying all of this to the table.”

“Got ya, husband,” Tony said, taking the pasta Stephen made and carrying it out. 

“You take too much pleasure in saying that,” Stephen said with a small smile. “Peter, do _not_ try to pick that up with your webs!”

Peter pouted before taking the roast pork, pausing on his way out. “Nice picture.”

Stephen looked over at what he was talking about. It was a framed photo of him, Tony, Rhodey, Pepper, Happy, and Christine in the Malibu mansion. “Oh, I love this picture of us all together. We look so happy.”

“Do you have any pictures with the other Avengers?”

“Oh, no, definitely not. This is actually before they were even around. That’s why we were so happy.”

Peter frowned. “Oh, okay . . .”

The Cloak pushed him forward, sending Peter stumbling into the dining room saying, “Hey!”

Stephen shook his head fondly, levitating out jugs of water and lemonade before joining everyone. 

“Hubby,” Tony said when he walked out. “Saved you a seat.” He patted his thigh suggestively.

Stephen gave him his best unimpressed look. “I’m not sitting on your lap, Tony.”

“Not now, maybe.”

May coughed awkwardly. “This . . . food looks . . . appetizing.”

Stephen sat down awkwardly, elbowing Tony’s side. “Thank you for the garlic bread, May. Tony, I assume you’ve already had your three pieces?”

Tony scoffed. “. . . Maybe.”

“You get one more.” He floated the plate of pork over to Rhodey, who was sitting between Wong and Pepper. “Pass that around, if there’s not enough for everyone, I’ll just make more.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, Mister Strange—” May began.

“May, it’s _Doctor_ Strange,” Peter pointed out. Stephen had never been so proud.

He smiled. “Trust me, May, it’s . . . no problem.”

Christine cleared her throat, ‘subtly’ gesturing to Stephen to change the subject.

Stephen rolled his eyes and looked at Peter. “Kid, what were you saying about your class’s trip to MOMA before?”

* * *

_H_ _e searched the water, cold and green and black. He had to find her. Had to save her. She would die, they would all die, he would die—_

_Something brushed against his ankle._

_Stephen dove down, grabbing Donna by the shoulders and pulling her out from the hole she'd been trapped in. But when he looked at her face, it was himself, pale and blue and empty, eyes black and dead._

_Stephen did not stop. He hauled himself up, kicking against the water that fought to drag him down, the light of the surface growing closer and closer—_

_He gasped in a breath when he broke the surface, the sky grey and cloudy and sunless. He looked at the body._

_Tony looked back at him, eyes empty. "Why did you die, Stephen?" His lips never moved, but his voice sounded. "Why did you let me die?"_

_Stephen shook his head, unable to let go of Tony's body. "No . . . no, no, no, TONY—"_

Stephen gasped awake, shooting up in bed as someone shook his shoulder, his face and chest covered in a layer of sweat. 

Tony sat up beside him. "Hey, it's okay," he said soothingly. "You're here. I'm right here. Nothing's happening."

It took a few minutes for Stephen to calm down. When he did, there was only one thing on his mind. "Tony?"

"Yeah."

Stephen cupped his husband's face with one hand, grounding himself. "Tony, I'm about to ask something incredibly selfish of you, but you have to say yes. No matter what, you must say yes and you must keep your promise, no matter how much you hate it."

Tony frowned, stroking his arm. "What is it?"

Stephen shook his head. "Promise first."

"I don't—"

" _Anthony_ ," Stephen said desperately, grabbing Tony's wrists. " _Promise."_

Tony stared at him, slowly nodded as he took in the gravity of the situation. "I promise. Tell me."

Stephen held Tony's hand, tracing his wedding ring. "Promise you won't die before me. Don't leave me alone in this world. Don't go before I do."

Tony shook his head and started to speak, but Stephen squeezed his hand harder. " _Tony._ "

They watched each other for a long time before Tony sighed. "I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FoReShAdOwInG


	12. Avengers: Infinity War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The angst is back.

_— 2018 —_

“I mean, your name’s just kind of ridiculous, hun,” Tony said, waving his hands animatedly as he and Stephen lay in bed that morning. “Stephen Stark-Strange, Sorcerer Supreme of the Sanctum Sanctorum.”

“ _Stark-Strange?_ ” Stephen demanded. “You'll be lucky if it’s Strange-Stark after that.”

“I was hoping you’d be so distracted by the fact that you’re not actually Sorcerer Supreme that you wouldn’t notice, Doctor Stark.”

“Oh, shut it, Mister Strange.”

“How dare you.” He playfully smacked Stephen’s arm. “How DARE YOU!”

“Fight me, tiny.” 

Tony pounded ineffectually on Stephen’s chest, yelping when Stephen pulled him into his lap, nipping his neck with exaggerated growls. Tony’s howled laughter was cut off by Wong banging something on the ceiling below them. 

“I can hear you from the library!”

Stephen winced. “Sorry, Wong!” To Tony, he muttered, “Remind me to look up a soundproofing spell later.”

“Wasn’t I supposed to remind you of that last week?”

“I know. You’re terrible at your job.”

“That’s not my only job.”

“It’s the most important.”

Tony chuckled, pulling Stephen back down to the bed with him, scattering soft kisses around his face. “You’re a bitch and I love you.” 

Stephen smiled, his arms wrapped around Tony’s shoulders. “We don’t have anything we have to do today. We should just lie in bed and watch TV and have lazy sex.”

“I knew I was right to marry you.” His hands inched up Stephen’s shirt. “Ravish me, you sexy—”

Somewhere in the Sanctum, there was a crashing noise that filled and shook the building.

Tony immediately sat up. “What the fuck was that?”

Stephen sighed, already charming his robes on and calling the Cloak to him. “That was the universe punishing me for my optimism.”

* * *

As soon as Tony was dressed and had the nanite unit, they ran downstairs, stopping at the top of the main staircase. Wong was already there, seeming more confused than angry at the giant hole in the middle of the stairs. Stephen was ready to fight with orange mandalas and Tony’s hand hovered over the symbol on top of his shirt, but they both paused in sheer confusion when they saw who it was. 

“Brucey?” Tony said, his hand falling from his chest.

Bruce Banner lay in a pit in the Sanctum, scared and confused and still half-green. “Thanos is coming . . . He’s coming . . .”

Wong and Stephen looked at each other. “Well that’s not good.”

Tony ignored them, lowering himself into the hole and giving Bruce a hand. “Christ, what happened to you. Stephen, will you give me a hand? And also a shirt?” 

Stephen obliged, levitating Tony and Bruce out of the hole and into the foyer before getting a sweater for him to wear. As soon as he was dressed and on his own two feet, he slumped between Stephen and Tony, leaning on them.

“Banner, what happened?” Stephen asked, trying to be kinder than he normally was.

“Thor . . .” Bruce said, his voice breaking. “He killed . . . oh, God . . .” He seemed close to sobbing, but Stephen felt a weight in his chest, and his dream from the night before flashed before his eyes. He gripped Banner’s arm tighter, his hands screaming in pain.

“Bruce,” Stephen said carefully, “we need to know what’s happening. Can you tell us?”

Slowly, Bruce nodded. Stephen directed him over to a couch, ignoring Tony’s hand rubbing circles into Bruce’s back as Wong brought over a tray of tea. “Try this,” he said softly. “It may help.”

Bruce didn’t move, but accepted a cup when Stephen pushed it into his hand, sipping slowly. When he spoke again, he was slow and quiet but his voice never wavered. “We were running . . . Asgard was destroyed, and everyone left was coming to Earth . . . But Thanos . . . he attacked us.” He looked up suddenly, his eyes wet. “He’s a plague, Tony. He invades planets and he wipes out half the population. He has these things called Infinity Stones—”

Wong and Stephen looked at each other sharply. “He has what?” Wong demanded, his voice deathly serious.

Bruce looked down. “Infinity Stones. They’re—”

“We know what they are,” Stephen said, eyes far away as he considered the possibilities and their limited options.

Tony raised a hand. “Um, I don’t. Someone want to catch me up to speed?”

Wong stood, silent as he raised his hands and created a ball of darkness. “At the dawn of the universe, there was nothing. Then—” His hand flicked, changing the blackness into a sky of lights and stars and galaxies. “The Big Bang sent six elemental crystals, hurtling across the virgin universe. These Infinity Stones each control an essential aspect of existence.” Each stone lit up as he named them. “Space. Reality. Power. Soul. Mind.”

Stephen looked down at the Eye of Agamotto hanging around his neck and opened it, the green stone glowing. “And Time.”

Tony stared at him. “You just have that around?” He was pretty sure they’d had sex at _least_ once while Stephen was wearing it.

“That’s not the point,” Stephen said quickly.

“You can’t let him get it,” Bruce said, speaking up. “He’s a monster. He sent Loki in New York. He killed him before killing Thor, he almost killed me. Everything . . . it’s him.”

Tony stood, walking around as he thought. He had a distant look in his eyes, and Stephen knew that they were thinking of the same thing. Dreams of portals and far-away enemies, aliens raining down from the sky, bloody nightmares and hours speaking to a therapist. “This is it,” Tony whispered. “What’s our timeline?”

“I have no idea,” Bruce said as Stephen stood and walked up to Tony, setting a hand on his shoulder. “He already has the Space and Power stones. That makes him the single most powerful being in the universe.”

“If he gets all of them,” Stephen said quietly, “he could destroy life on a scale hitherto undreamt of.”

Tony stretched his leg, trying to get rid of the tension that was filling his body. “Babe, don’t say ‘hitherto undreamt of’, it’s pretentious.”

“And _you_ don’t lean on the Cauldron of the Cosmos,” Stephen snarked back, smirking when the Cloak smacked Tony’s ass.

Tony yelped, dropping his leg and looking at Stephen with faux-offense. “Stephen! Not while Wong and Bruce are around!” He ‘subtly’ winked at his husband. Stephen was trying very hard not to groan.

Bruce stared at the Cloak, as if, in the midst of everything, it had taken him that long to realize something was different about Stephen and where they were. “Stephen? Do you . . . have powers?”

Stephen looked at him. “Oh, right, you weren’t here for that. Yeah, magic’s a thing, and I do it now. But that’s not important. We need to focus on Thanos.” 

“Stephen’s right,” Tony said, a hand on his husband’s back, inching down. “If Thanos needs all six, why don't we just stick this one down the garbage disposal? It won’t completely depower him, but he won’t be able to achieve his goal so easily.”

Stephen shook his head, stopping Tony’s hand before it reached his ass. “Tony, the Time Stone is integral to protecting Earth. Wong and I swore an oath to protect it with our lives.”

“Did _Mordo_ make that oath?” Tony muttered. 

“What was that?” Stephen demanded.

Tony spoke. “Just saying, we all do things that we end up regretting things or changing our minds. I swore off dairy—”

“For five minutes,” Stephen pointed out, deciding to let Tony’s comment go (while they were in front of other people, at least).

Tony ignored him. “—but then Ben & Jerry's named a flavor after me, so.”

“Stark Raving Hazelnuts,” Stephen remembered with a shrug. “Not my favorite.”

Tony gasped. “You said you liked it.”

“It’s a bit chalky.”

“I prefer Hunka-Hulka Burning Fudge,” Wong said with a slight shrug at Tony’s look.

Bruce, who was having a very _strange_ (ha) day, looked at him. “That’s a thing?”

“My point _is_ ,” Tony said, poking the Eye of Agamotto, “things change.”

Stephen lightly smacked his hand. “Not this. The Time Stone is too important. We’d be better off trying to destroy another one or kill Thanos altogether. Not to mention it may be the best chance we have against him.”

Tony groaned. “Fine, I’ll drop it. At least we _have_ this stone. Do we know where the others are?”

“Vision has the Mind Stone,” Bruce said. “It’s the gem in his head. Get him here, and we’ll be two against two with Thanos. Might have a shot that way.”

Tony and Stephen shared a look, immediately thinking the same thing. “Yeah, here’s the thing . . .”

“Sometime after you . . .” Stephen looked for the right word, “. . . left, there was a falling out in the Avengers. I’ll summarize by saying Tony was right and Rogers is an asshole. Most of them ended up going rogue, and two weeks ago, Vision turned off his transponder, probably to join them.”

Bruce stared at him. “Are you kidding me? What was so important that you guys—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Stephen said, shutting him down. “What we need to worry about now is finding Vision. Tony, do you have any other way to contact him?”

Tony looked away, fiddling with the sunglasses hanging from the neck of his shirt. “Probably Steve.”

Stephen was surprised his vision didn’t literally turn red. “Of course.” He knew Tony had kept the cell phone Rogers sent him, even if he never used it. “Maybe we won’t have to. I can do a tracking spell. Won’t be as easy as with you or Peter, especially since I have no clue where he is, but it can be done.”

Tony nodded slowly. “Yeah, you do that. And we’ll call Rogers.”

Stephen shook his head slightly, holding Tony’s wrist. “You don’t have to do that. We need Vision, not him.”

Tony wasn’t looking at him, his eyes centered on the wedding ring hanging from Stephen’s neck. “If this guy is everything Bruce says . . . we need all hands on deck.”

Stephen hated it, but he knew Tony was right. The flip phone, based on a model so outdated Stephen was surprised it even worked, was kept upstairs in a box in their closet. He summoned it now, hesitating to hand it over. “I can call him,” he said quietly, speaking for Tony though he knew the others could hear him. “You don’t have to do it. I can handle Rogers.” 

It took a moment for Tony to nod. “Yeah. Yeah, you can probably . . . handle it better.”

Relieved, Stephen opened the phone and pulled up Steve’s number, the only one saved. He resisted the urge to mutter his anger at the captain, not wanting Tony to feel guilty or change his mind, and simply pressed call. 

One, two, three rings passed before Rogers answered. “Tony?”

 _Now_ he let it out. “Hey, asshole—”

Outside, something was rumbling. 

Stephen looked down, seeing the wooden floors tremble. Over the phone, Steve asked, “Hello? Strange? Where’s Tony?”

Tony was staring at him. “Babe, you wouldn't happen to be moving your hair would you?”

Stephen was so concerned by the sudden wind that he didn't even object to Tony calling him 'babe’. “Not at the moment . . .” He looked up at the hole in the roof that was made when Banner fell into the building. Outside, debris was blowing everywhere and the wind was so strong it was carrying the soundwaves of something . . . mechanical?

A moment later, distant screaming joined the wind.

Tony immediately went to the door, seeing people running past through the glass planes. Stephen followed him, speaking quickly into the phone.

“Situation in New York, get your traitor asses back here and do something _useful_.” He shut it before Rogers could respond, quickly tucking his wedding ring into his shirt as Tony opened the door.

The road was filled with gridlocked cars and people running in terror. Wind blew through the street, slamming dust and trash around. When Tony stopped to help a woman who’d fallen down, she ignored him and immediately ran away, just in time for a car to slam straight into a light pole he was standing next to. Tony pointed to Bruce. “Help that guy!” He pulled on his glasses. “Fri, what are we looking at?”

“Not sure,” Friday responded, sounding genuinely nervous and scared. “I’m working on it.”

He looked back to his husband. “Stephen, you with me?”

Stephen ran to his side, summoning protective mandalas around his arms. “I’ve got you.”

Tony wanted to stop and say something to him then, but there was no time. They entered a new street, seeing the ship for the first time, a giant black-and-silver ring with orange lights running around it, completely surrounded by enough dirt and dust to blind them. 

“Friday, evac anyone south of 43rd Street, notify first responders.”

“Will do.”

Stephen stepped back, moving his arms as though gathering something before thrusting them out, sending out a burst of orange energy that sent the giant cloud of dust into the sky, clearing the road and letting them see better. 

Tony looked back at him, impressed. Stephen winked. 

_Cheeky bastard._

A blue light beamed down to the street, and it when it left, two aliens, one giant and muscular and holding a sort of huge hammer, the other relatively normal-sized and seemingly weaponless, both grey and ugly, stood where it had been.

Tony, Stephen, Wong, and Bruce walked forward warily. The smaller alien spoke first. “Hear me, and rejoice. You are about to die at the hands of the Children of Thanos. Be thankful, for your meaningless lives are now contributing to the balance of—”

Tony cut him off. “I’m sorry, Earth is _closed_ today. You better pack it up and get out of here.”

The alien, now close enough that they could see he was wearing a sort of black and grey armor, scowled at him before turning to Stephen. “Stonekeeper. Does this . . . chattering animal speak for you?”

“Certainly not,” Stephen said, stepping forward and — _Do the boom-boom-whoosh_ , Tony thought — summoned two new shields by banging his wrists twice before holding his hands out — _Oh yeah, that's the good stuff._ “I speak for myself. You’re trespassing in this city and on this planet.” Beside him, Wong got into fighting position, two orange glowing circles at his fists.

Tony stared at Stephen. “I’m sorry, are you not even going to mention that he called your husband a chattering animal to your face?”

Bruce started. “You guys got married while I was gone?”

Stephen ignored him, looking at Tony with a shrug. “Figured you could handle yourself.”

Tony scoffed, facing the aliens again. “Whatever. Point is, get lost, Squidward!”

The smaller alien said something to his companion, too quiet and far away for them to hear. The larger one, who vaguely reminded Tony of the Mountain from Game of Thrones, muttered something in response. A moment later, Mountain men dropped the head of his hammer on the ground, making a loud metallic noise meant to intimidate them as he started forward.

Tony was unimpressed. “Banner, you want a piece?”

Bruce looked around awkwardly. “No, not really, but when do I ever get what I want?”

Tony shrugged in response, smiling slightly as Bruce grunted, the veins in his neck turning green. “Good to have you, buddy. You know, we saved you a wedding favor. Knock this guy out in one go, and you get two.”

Stephen looked over at them, eyes focusing on Bruce. “Um, Banner?”

Everyone looked at Bruce, whose neck was turning green, but nothing else. “I just . . .” His voice was harsh and pained. “I need to concentrate here for one second.” His face tightened painfully, his whole body taut and stressed. “Just . . . come on, big guy.”

Meanwhile, Alien Mountain as Tony decided to call him was getting closer. 

“Brucey? Where’s your guy?”

Bruce shrugged awkwardly. “Well, we’ve kind of been having a thing.”

“A thing? What thing? _That’s_ the thing, coming right at us now! Come on!”

Bruce sighed before trying again, throwing his head back as the green made it to his chain and his eyes slammed shut it pain before breathing out as it retreated again.

Tony stared at him. “Dude, you're embarrassing us in front of Stephen’s wizard friend.”

“I’m sorry, but either I can’t, or he won’t—” 

Tony gently pushed him back. “It’s fine. Just stay out of the way, don’t get hurt. Wong, you mind keeping an eye on him? Thank you.”

“I’ve got him,” Wong said, standing in front of Bruce, who looked very apologetic about the whole thing.

As Alien Mountain started to run at them, Tony tapped the nanite arc reactor three times, walking forward as red and gold and silver and blue spread over his body, casing him in shining metal. When the big guy tried to land his hammer on him, his arm formed a shield that covered his whole body before punching him upside the chin. The alien roared at him, but Tony made a set of blasters, one in each hand and four more that spread out behind him, and threw him back with giant beams of white-blue energy. He almost landed on Squidward, but the smaller alien made a small gesture with his hand, dropping him on top of a car to the side. 

_So that’s what you do._

Stephen watched Tony appreciatively with the new suit, sending several glances to his ass.

Bruce, meanwhile, stared in complete shock. “Where did that come from?!”

Tony turned. “It’s nanotech, you like it? It’s new—”

Suddenly, Squidward moved again, throwing up the ground that Tony was standing on and launching him into the air before pulling up some of the trees that decorated the sidewalks and aiming them at the others.

Wong put up a giant shield around them while Stephen, now thoroughly annoyed and worried for Tony, turned to Bruce. “Banner, if you won’t be helping out—” He pulled his sling ring on and dropped Bruce into a park, accidentally sending half of a taxi with him. _Oh. He’s probably fine._

Tony flew down to rejoin them, coming up from behind. Stephen signaled to him before getting in position, forming a circle half as tall of himself and drawing it back before moving out of the way. Tony came through then, sending a repulsor blast through the spell, amplifying it and making it blast so bright that light filled the street and Squidward was hit with a car before he could deflect it.

Stephen couldn’t help the smile that came over his face. It was the first time they had ever tried it in an emergency — hell, this was the first time they'd even fought side-by-side, and he thought they were doing pretty well. He almost wanted to take a picture and put it in a scrapbook. _Couple’s first fight against aliens together._

Tony blew through the street, dodging everything Squidward through at him until Alien Mountain tossed his hammer, now attached to a huge metal rope, at him, pushing Tony through the road and out to a park before landing painfully underneath a tree. _Fuck._

Bruce, having apparently been dropped off at that park, ran over to him. “Tony! You okay? How we doing, good, bad?”

Tony looked at him without bothering to get up. “Oh, you know, good. Really good. Hey, do you plan on helping out?”

“I’m trying, but he won’t come out—”

Alien Mountain burst through a building with a roar, throwing his hammer at them. Tony flew forward, throwing Bruce out of the way before getting up and circling Alien Mountain, shooting him with an orange energy beam only to be met with a shield. _Ugh, what is it with shields? Why won’t anyone ever just let you kill them?_ He only managed to accidentally cut down a few trees before Alien Mountain slammed him to the ground, about to bring his hammer down on him when he suddenly stopped, unable to press further.

Peter popped up from where he was holding the hammer in place. “Hey, man. What's up, Mister Stark?”

Tony rolled onto his back, looking up at his assailant and the teen in bright red and blue. “Kid, where’d you come from?”

“The field trip from MOMA—” He cut off suddenly when Alien Mountain picked him up by the waist and through him next a fountain, though he got up quickly. “What’s this guy's problem, Mister Stark?”

Tony tried blasting Alien Mountain. “He's from outer space. He came to steal Stephen's favorite necklace.”

Peter gasped. “His _wedding ring?!_ ”

Tony rolled his eyes. “ _Different_ necklace!”

While Tony and Peter tried to handle the big guy, Stephen and Wong were still fighting Squidward. They portaled his sharpened bricks back at him, managing to cut his face, Stephen noted smugly. The feeling soon evaporated when Squidward shot Wong back with a beam of water from a fire hydrant, knocking him out when he landed hard on the ground. 

Stephen quickly summoned an energy whip, binding the attacker’s hands and yanking him forward, but the alien used the momentum to steer them towards a building, trapping Stephen upside-down against a wall and surrounding him with bricks so he couldn’t move. 

“Your powers are quaint,” Squidward mocked. “You must be popular with children.” He tried to grab the Eye, but it glowed bright when he did, burning his hand and forcing him back when he shouted out in pain.

Stephen smirked. “It’s a simple spell, but quite unbreakable.”

The alien growled, “Then I’ll take it off your _corpse_.” 

He grabbed Stephen by the shirt and threw him to the ground, but Stephen rolled to his feet, preparing to use the Time Stone—

Metal cables wrapped around each of his wrists, pulling them down and keeping him from completing the spell. The Eye closed as more cables wrapped around his waist, quickly moving up his torso and neck, tightening. 

Stephen huffed at himself in frustration. _Now is not the time for an erection!_

He struggled to speak. “You’ll find . . . removing a dead man’s spell . . . troublesome.”

“You’ll only _wish_ you were dead.”

Stephen’s vision blurred as the metal tightened one last time, and the world turned black.

* * *

Tony stared as Stephen’s unconscious body flew between him and Alien Mountain, Squidward close behind, thinking, _What the FUCK—_

“Kid, go get Stephen!”

“On it!” Peter swung away, seeming to have it under control.

Thirty seconds later: “Mister Stark? We’re being beamed up!”

“God fucking— hang on!” Considering he was pinned to the ground by the axe that also turned out to work as a claw, it might take a minute. 

Tony was trying to break out of the claw’s grip when Alien Mountain dove, a sword outreached to kill him—

A portal opened above him, dropping Alien Mountain . . . somewhere.

Tony sat up. “Stephen?”

Wong looked at him. “No.” He looked at the portal, quickly closing it and slicing off Alien Mountain’s hand. Bruce, also standing there, kicked it away when it twitched.

Tony finally broke free of the claw. “Be right back.” He shot into the sky, following the donut ship that was quickly leaving the Earth with his husband and his protégé in tow. “Give me a little juice, Friday.” His boot thrusters morphed together to form a single jet, pushing him through the atmosphere at top speed. “Unlock 17-A.” Peter wasn’t going to be able to survive in space in his normal suit. 

_Time for an upgrade._

As he got closer, he could see Peter on the outside of the ship, slowly crawling higher. “Pete, you gotta let go. I'm gonna catch you.”

“But Doctor Strange is up there!” Peter’s voice was breathy and gasping. Desperate, he pulled off his mask. “I can’t breath!”

“You’re too high up, you’re running out of air.”

Peter nodded, looking like he was about to fall off the ship. “Yeah . . . that makes sense.” Peter gasped a few more times before blacking out, falling from the ship like a bird shot down from the sky. Tony swept up to catch him, but right in time, the pod appeared, attaching itself to Peter before transforming into a nanite suit of gleaming red and gold and blue. Peter landed back on the ship, rolling around before grabbing hold of the black ring, gasping as he startled back to reality and realized what was happening. “Mister Stark, it smells like a new car in here!”

 _Oh, thank God._ “Happy trails, kid. Friday, send him home.”

As he turned to the ship, he heard, “Oh, COME ON!”

Reassured that Peter was headed back down to Earth, he grabbed onto the side of the ship, using a laser to cut a hole into it and diving in. “Friday, you sensing anything?” There was a tracker in Stephen’s watch, which he did not need to know about. 

. . . What? The guy left for a year and no one knew where he was!

“He’s nearby . . .” Friday’s voice was faint and garbled as they left Earth. “I’m going . . .”

“Friday? Fri?”

No response.

Tony sighed as they entered hyperspace. _Looks like we’re on our own, Doctor Stark._

* * *

Stephen struggled into wakefulness, freezing when he saw dozens of glassy needle-like objects surrounding his face and body. _Oh, I should have stayed asleep._

He was floating in the center of a dark, metallic room, assumingly the inside of the ship they’d seen earlier. He couldn’t feel the Cloak at his back. Tony was nowhere to be seen.

Squidward levitated over to him. “In all the time I've served Thanos, I have never failed him.” He stood close enough for Stephen to make out every line and wrinkle of his grey face. “If I were to reach our rendezvous on Titan with the Time Stone still attached to your vaguely irritating person, there would be . . . _judgment_.”

The needles moved closer, the first piercing his cheek. Stephen forced himself not to flinch, completely still as burning-cold pain filled his face, moving down his nerves to every inch of his body, from his head to his feet to his aching hands. _Tony, think of Tony . . ._

Another one pierced his chest, his face, his hand. “Give me . . . the stone.”

Stephen bit into his cheek to keep from screaming, blood pulsing through him like so much venom. 

Tony leaned down from a bridge in the room, trying to decide the best way to beat the telepath’s face in before he could respond when something touched his arm.

He whipped around, raising his hand to fire a repulsor before he saw that it was the Cloak of Levitation. Tony sighed. “Wow, you are a _seriously_ loyal piece of outerwear.”

“Uh, speaking of loyalty . . .”

Oh, he was going to _throttle_ Peter.

. . . later.

Tony stared at the kid. “We are going to talk about this later, because I _cannot_ handle you while _Stephen is being tortured._ ”

Peter looked down. “Um . . . okay, I have an idea. Have you ever seen that really old movie, _Aliens_?”

* * *

Blood filled his mouth. He couldn’t speak if he wanted to. His entire body felt like when his hands were crushed in the car accident. 

“Painful aren't they? They were originally designed for microsurgery.”

He tried to escape, to go into himself, to think of Tony and his warmth, but nothing worked. He was trapped and alone and _terrified_ , and he didn’t even have the comfort of his husband—

Tony landed with a thud at the back of the room, immediately raising his repulsors at Stephen’s kidnapper. Maybe it was just his imagination, but he thought the suit’s glowing blue eyes looked absolutely _hateful_ in that moment.

The alien rose to meet him. “And any one of them could end your husband’s life in an instant.”

“You won’t have that much time.”

The telepath walked slowly towards him, floating huge metal objects behind him. “Your powers are inconsequential compared to mine.”

“Yeah, but the kid’s seen more movies.” Without waiting for a response, he blasted a hole into the wall behind the alien with a rocket, sucking Squidward out before he could hope to retaliate.

Unfortunately, it also sucked _Stephen_ out.

The Cloak caught him by the arm, but couldn’t hold him, close to being sucked into space itself, and Stephen fell from its wrappings towards the empty hole.

He was almost lost when Peter shot a web at his back, catching him just as he left the ship. Peter strained to hold on, but four golden spider legs expanded from his suit to brace them against the wall. “YES! WAIT, WHAT ARE THOSE?” Not waiting another moment, and with Stephen just barely protected by the ship’s atmosphere, Peter jumped, pulling him back inside as Tony flew forward, spraying nanites to fix the hole and keep them inside.

Stephen fell to the floor, groaning in pain. Tony immediately went to his side, gently holding his arm. “Are you okay?”

Stephen flinched from the pain, but leaned into Tony’s hand. “I will be.” He smiled, not bothering to hide the pain. “You’re here.”

Tony smiled, definitely trying to hide his own fear and guilt. “Did you think I was just gonna leave you? What kind of husband would I be?”

Stephen chuckled, grimacing before turning to spit the blood from his mouth. “Uh. Gonna be feeling that for a while.”

“Can I do anything?”

“Well, you can try getting this ship back to Earth.” Stephen looked around, doing a backtrack when he saw Peter standing next to the Cloak. “Peter, what the hell are you doing here? You could have been killed!”

“Hey, I helped you!”

“Tony had it under control. You shouldn’t be here.” He turned to Tony suddenly. “Why did you let him up here?”

 _What is this, blame Tony after he does something nice for you day?_ “I didn’t! I tried to make him go back down to Earth, but he came on his own!” 

“It’s not my fault!” Peter insisted, hands moving wildly as he explained his side of things. “I was gonna go home—”

“Liar,” Tony coughed into his hand.

“—but it was such a long way down, and I just thought about you guys on the way, and I kinda stuck to the side of the ship. And this suit is . . . _ridiculously_ intuitive, by the way. So if anything, it's kinda your fault that I'm here.”

Tony, Stephen, and the Cloak looked up at the same time. “What did you just say?” Tony demanded. “Say that again.”

Peter raised his hands in placation. “I take that back. But now I’m here, in space, and Doctor Strange-Stark is alive, and we’re all okay, so it worked out really.”

Stephen was unamused. “We’re going to have a long talk about your actions when we get back, Peter. Speaking of—” he turned to his husband, “—do you think we can control this thing? Fly us home? I’d try a portal, but so far away and after what tall, grey, and ugly did to me, I’d probably end up dropping us halfway there.”

Tony reluctantly let Stephen go, gesturing at Peter to come over and stay with him while Tony checked out the ship’s controls. “It’s auto-correcting its course. Thing’s on autopilot.”

“But can you get us home?”

Tony hesitated, looking out the viewport. Stars moved past them like streaks of light. The sky was blue and calming and empty. 

At least he wasn’t falling.

“Tony,” Stephen said, growing worried. “Can you get us back?”

Tony looked around. “I’m not so sure I should.”

Stephen turned his head, staring at his husband. “What are you thinking?”

Tony turned his back to the stars. “Let’s take the fight to him.”

“Tony,” Stephen said slowly, “we can’t just take him the stone on a silver platter—”

“ _Stephen_ ,” he went over to his husband and grabbed him by the forearms, pulling him close. “You of all people know that Thanos has been in my head for _six years_ , ever since he sent an army to New York, and now he’s back!” He ran his fingers over the scars on Stephen’s hands, grounding himself in reality as his voice grew quieter. “And I don't know what to do. I'm not sure if it's a better plan to fight him on our turf or his, but you saw what they did, what they _can_ do.” If anyone else on Earth got hurt because of him . . . Tony didn’t know if he could live with himself. “At least on his turf, he's not expecting it. So I say we take the fight to him. Doctor Stark. Do you concur?”

There was a brief, painful, pause before Stephen pulled Tony’s hand up to his face, nuzzling into it. “We might have put ‘to obey’ in the wedding. Probably would’ve saved us some arguments.”

Tony chuckled, leaning in close and kissing him softly. “It’s gonna work, okay? I know we can fight him and win, because I’d never let you die, and you’d never let me die. We’ll protect each other.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that.” The smile slid from his face when he looked behind Tony. “What are we gonna do with Peter?”

“Hey!” The kid said, offended. “I’m right here!”

“Shut it.” 

“Pete,” Tony said, standing beside Stephen as they faced him, “this isn’t Coney Island, okay? This isn’t a field trip. We’re flying billions of miles away from Earth on a flying donut, and you weren’t even supposed to _be_ here.”

“I know, I know,” Peter said hurriedly, desperate to plead his case, “but I can’t be a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man when there's no neighborhood.” He paused. “That sounded kind of stupid, but you know what I mean.”

Stephen and Tony looked at each other. “Whole universe in the balance . . .” Stephen said slowly. “Kind of an all hands on deck situation.”

Tony looked between the two, clearly not liking it, but . . . “Peter, listen to me: you stay with us, you stay in our sight, and you stay _safe_. Listen to everything we tell you to do, and don’t take any unnecessary risks. Got it?”

Peter nodded immediately. “Got it.”

“Okay. It’s a big day, kid.” He walked over to Peter. For a moment, he considered getting the nanites out to form an actual sword, but that seemed like overkill. Instead, he settled for formally tapping each of Peter’s shoulders with the edge of his hand, ‘knighting’ him. “You’re an Avenger now.”

Peter tried very hard to look serious before breaking into a grin. Stephen reluctantly returned the look, ignoring the feeling of dread in his chest.

* * *

They passed the time in relative silence, only occasionally speaking, all three of them bracing for what would come. Tony was anxious, constantly getting up to pace the room, occasionally experimenting with new forms for the nanite. Stephen watched him fondly as he sat on the ground beside Peter, holding the watch he’d put on that morning. _How long will I love you? As long as you want._

The words that used to bring him so much comfort now worsened his fears for reasons he didn’t fully understand. He tried to ignore it, finding himself looking at Peter more and more. It was no secret that Tony wanted a child and had even started to see Peter as a surrogate son, though he tried to hide it. But he didn’t know that Stephen had started to share his desire, even going so far as to look at adoption agencies in his spare time. Now he was glad he never mentioned it. With every second the past, the weight in his chest grew heavier, his mind constantly replaying his dream. He knew that if even one of them was lost, the other was too, that it didn’t matter in the end which one of them lived and which was a corpse. 

_But please, let it be me. Don’t take Tony from me. I can die a thousand times if that’s what it takes, but don’t take him._

When he spoke, Tony too far away to hear him, his voice was a whisper. “I fear I may die today.”

Peter almost jumped out of his skin, looking at Stephen in shock. “Don’t say that! You guys always win! No one’s ever beaten the Avengers.”

Stephen smiled slightly. “I’m not an Avenger, kid.”

“You kind of are. I feel like marrying an Avenger makes you one, y’know? Like . . . I don’t know, citizenship. Plus, you do the magic thing.”

Stephen couldn’t resist a laugh. “There is that.” He looked up at his husband, who was still walking with his back to them. “Don’t tell Tony what I said. He has enough to worry about.”

“Why?” His eyes widened. “Oh my God, are you two having a kid?”

Stephen stared at him. “I was actually talking about the whole . . . alien attack thing.”

“Oh.” Peter’s face went beet-red. “Yeah, that makes more sense. I don’t know why I thought of the other thing.”

Stephen chuckled, and they lapsed back into silence. 

Tony eventually rejoined them, laying down with his head in Stephen’s lap with an exaggerated sigh. Stephen lovingly pet his hair, wanting to savor every moment with him. Tony lay there with his eyes closed for a long time before opening them again, smiling up at his husband . . .

. . . until he looked behind him.

Tony sat up, looking at the viewport. “Guys.” He quickly got to his feet, followed by Stephen and Peter. “I think we’re here.”

The stars had been replaced with a view of a planet, covered in odd, seastar-like buildings that looked broken down. They seemed small at first, but grew increasingly gigantic as they got closer. There were no plants or people that they could see, not even the purple asshole himself.

And the ship hadn’t slowed down.

“I don't think this rig has a self-park function.” He looked at Peter. “Get your hand into this steering gimbal. Close those around it. You understand?” They moved quickly, Peter and Tony each taking one half to control. “This was meant for one big guy, so we gotta move at the same time.”

“Okay, okay,” Peter said, not sounding very okay. “Ready.”

Stephen stood in the middle, watching as they headed straight for the center of one of the giant broken buildings. 

“Might wanna turn,” Peter said hurriedly, trying to move his hand. “Turn, turn, _turn!_ ”

In seconds, both of them were shielded by their nanite armor, but Stephen didn’t want that to be their last resort. The ship shook around them, unable to avoid the metal building entirely, and Stephen almost fell to the ground, but he stood from sheer will, crossing his wrists and summoning his energy to throw the Seraphim Shield around them as they crashed. 

The ship was torn in half when they hit the ground, but the glowing orange shield kept the worst of it from them, though Tony and Peter both fell to the ground. Stephen quickly helped his husband to his feet, Tony allowing the helmet to fall away from his head. “You okay?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah. You?”

Stephen was panting, and not completely rid of soreness from Squidward’s ‘surgery’, but otherwise fine. “I’m good.” He looked around. “Where’s—”

Peter descended from the ceiling on a web string, hanging upside down. “If aliens implant eggs in my chest or something, and I eat you guys, I'm sorry.”

Stephen and Tony stared at him. “I don't wanna hear another single pop culture out of you for the rest of the trip,” Tony said, pointing at him irritably. “You understand?”

“What I mean is, something’s coming.”

Before any of them could even move, a silver ball rolled in between them, blasting out a sonic wave that through each of them back. Stephen grunted in pain when he landed on his side, rolling to his feet before standing up and quickly summoning a pair of shields.

Through a hole in the ship, three people ran in, indistinguishable through a cloud of dust. One of them shouted, “THANOS!” and started throwing knives. Stephen snapped his shield up, catching two of them. The dust cleared enough that he could make out what the man looked like, and it was decidedly not human. The man screamed again, starting to run forward, but the Cloak shot forward, wrapping around his head and throwing him to the ground. 

The alien’s companions moved next, one of them wearing a silver mask and flying around on boots that briefly reminded Stephen of Mordo while shooting at Tony. His husband fired back shot for shot, using rockets to blow up part of the wall near where the man flew and knocking them into each other before Tony threw his attacker forward. Stephen readied a whip to throw at him, but suddenly the man laughed, pressing a button on a trigger that activated a magnet he’d attached to Tony’s chest. The magnet forced Tony to the wall, desperately pushing against it.

Stephen quickly ran to his husband’s side, using shields to block the rain of fire that came down on him, and tried to pry the magnet from him, trying to move quickly as he saw Peter fighting the attackers.

Peter fell to the ground, wrapped up in glowing white cords, just as Stephen and Tony managed to get the magnet off. The shooter grabbed Peter, putting him in a headlock and holding a blaster to his head. Tony, seeing an opportunity, flew over to the alien that the Cloak still had tangled up, though now the relic released its hold, rejoining Stephen, who shielded his husband. Tony aimed a repulsor at the vulnerable grey-and-red man, one foot on the man’s chest and Stephen at his side. The third attacker, a bug-like woman with huge eyes and antennae, with arms trapped by her sides from Peter’s webbing, struggled to stand behind the shooter.

The shooter started to speak, the mask melting away from his face and showing a fairly human, if annoying, face. “Everybody, stay where you are and chill the fuck out.” Bold words for a man pointing a weapon at a teenager. “I'm gonna ask you this one time. _Where is Gamora?_ ”

Tony and Stephen looked at each other, both thinking the same thing. The nanite helmet receded into Tony’s suit so he could put their thoughts to word. “Yeah, I'll do you one better. _Who's_ Gamora?”

“I’ll do _you_ one better!” the alien under Tony’s foot yelled. “ _Why_ is Gamora?!”

_Oh, Vishanti help me._

The human-looking one also decided to ignore his friend. “Tell me where the girl is, or I swear to you, I'm gonna French-fry this little freak.” He tightened his hold on Peter’s neck.

The gauntlet Tony was pointing at the alien transformed into a repulsor cannon the length of his arm, looking almost like a shark’s mouth about to eat his face. “You shoot my guy, I blast him. Let's go!” Stephen said nothing, but considered a way to open a portal under Peter that wouldn’t bring the trespasser along, or maybe just cut him in half.

“Do it, Quill!” The alien shouted. “I can take it!”

“No, he can’t take it!” The female alien shouted.

“She’s right,” Stephen said helpfully. “He can’t take it.”

The man — Quill, apparently — was undeterred. “You don't wanna tell me where she is? That's _fine_! I'll kill all three of you and beat it out of Thanos myself!” He pressed the gun closer to Peter’s head. Starting with _you_.”

“Thanos?” Stephen demanded, quickly stomping on the alien’s hand when he tried moving. “Alright, let me ask you this: what master do you serve?”

“What master do I serve?” Quill repeated mockingly. “What am I supposed to say, _Jesus_?”

Stephen and Tony shared a look. “You’re from Earth.”

“I’m not from Earth, I’m from _Missouri_.”

Tony didn’t bother trying not to roll his eyes. “Yeah, that’s on Earth, _dumbass_. What are you hassling us for?”

“So, you’re not with Thanos?” Peter asked weakly.

“ _With_ Thanos?” Quill demanded, indignant. “No, I’m here to _kill_ Thanos, he took my girl— wait, who are you?”

 _This jackass literally attacked us when we want to kill the same grape._ Stephen missed when the most difficult thing in their life was people badly copying Tony’s suit.

Peter’s helmet retracted. “We’re the Avengers, man.” He breathed in relief when Quill finally let him go. Stephen quickly waved him over, putting a comforting arm around Peter’s shoulder while his other hand kept its shield up.

The bug woman hopped forward awkwardly. “You’re the ones Thor told us about!”

Tony stared at them. “You know Thor? He’s not dead?”

“Yeah,” Quill said. “Tall guy, not that good-looking—” Peter seemed offended, “—needed saving.”

Stephen shared a look with his husband before finally lowering his shield. “Where is he now?”

* * *

Now that they were certain everyone was on the same side, they finally left the ship, emerging onto the barren orange wasteland.

Stephen set a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “I’m going to use the Eye to look at possible futures, see if I can figure out what we’re supposed to do. Can you handle . . . _them_ on your own?”

Tony smiled. “Easy peasy.” He pressed a quick kiss to Stephen’s mouth. “You do your cool wizard job, Doc. I’ve got the crazies under control.”

He did not have them under control.

“Alright,” Tony said, ignoring the fact that Mantis was bouncing like a kid on a trampoline in a low-gravity spot, “I have a plan. Or at least the beginnings of one. It's pretty simple. We draw him in, pin him down, get what we need. Definitely don't wanna dance with this guy, we just want the gauntlet— are you _yawning?_ ” He stared at Drax. “In the middle of this, while I'm breaking it down? Did you hear what I said?”

Drax looked around, not seeming particularly troubled. “I stopped listening after you said, ‘We need a plan.’”

Tony sighed. “Okay, well, Mister Clean is clearly on his own page.”

“See,” Quill began, and Tony already knew he was gonna hate what he said, “‘not winging it’ isn't really what they _do_.” Yep. Knew it.

Peter raised a hand. “What exactly is it that they do?”

Mantis, having finally stopped bouncing, spoke. “Kick names, take ass.” Drax nodded in solidarity.

Tony took five seconds. Five seconds to completely give up and into despair. _Maybe Stephen can put up with these dumbasses while I look through the future._ “Alright, just get over here, please. Mister Lord, can you get your folks to circle up?”

“Mister Lord,” Quill repeated with a flattered smile. “Star-Lord is fine.” He motioned to his allies, getting them to actually pay attention to Tony for more than two seconds. 

“We gotta coalesce. 'Cause if all we come at him with is a plucky attitude—”

“Dude,” Quill interrupted. “Don’t call us _plucky_. We don’t know what it means.”

That didn’t last long.

“I like your plan, _except_ it sucks, so let _me_ do the plan, and that way it might be really good.”

 _Oh, fuck it._ “Stephen!” He turned and shouted at his husband, who was floating cross-legged above the ground closeby. “Stephen, switch!”

* * *

In hindsight, Stephen was very optimistic looking at the first few futures. 

He didn’t move as quickly through them then, wanting to check every detail. But when the first one ended with Tony’s head being torn from his shoulders, he moved past it immediately. It didn’t matter. He had looked into the future before and seen horrible things. He could compartmentalize.

But it didn’t stop.

No matter what he did, what changes he made, what choices, they couldn’t win. Thanos killed them, again and again, and when he did . . .

Stephen kept going.

He started being less picky. They could endure a few losses for the sake of the universe, at least theoretically. But he cut short any future that ended with Tony dead. Himself, he could handle, but not Tony. Tony was everything.

But nothing else worked. He went through ten, a hundred, a thousand, a _million_ futures, and none of them were good. Even the ones where the prevented Thanos’s genocide resulted in mass casualties when they tried to prevent it. 

Except for one.

Just one, one out of more than fourteen _million_ , but it would work. Thanos would be defeated with the least casualties of any future he’d seen, they’d be able to bring back almost everyone—

But not Tony.

As he watched his husband die in his arms, surrounded by victorious allies, he remembered the Ancient One’s words. " _It's not about you._ "

He was a sorcerer of Kamar-Taj, a master of the mystic arts, and it was his sacred duty to protect the Earth and the Time Stone and the universe at any cost, and _none of it mattered if Tony wasn't with him_. The oath to protect the world wasn’t the only vow he made. 

_Please_ , he thought to the universe, thinking of Tony and his smile and the life together they’d envisioned. _Not Tony. You have already had your fill of him. This whole world has. You’ve had his mind and his heart and his health and his sanity. You’ve had his family, his friends, you’ve had me. He’s almost sacrificed his own life to you a dozen times. Just this once, please . . . let him be safe and let him be mine._

He kept looking.

* * *

Stephen came back to Titan with a gasp, shaking as he fell to the ground, the Cloak catching him.

Tony crouched down, holding his hands. “You're here, okay? We're okay.”

“What was that?” Peter asked, standing between them and the Guardians like a shield. 

Stephen had never been more grateful for their presence. “I went forward in time to view alternate futures. To see all the possible outcomes of the coming conflict.” He was still panting, more shaken by what he saw then he wanted Tony to know, but unable to forget any of it.

“How many did you see?” Quill asked warily.

“Twenty million eight hundred thousand and ten.” More than he needed to, if he were honest, but he never would be. Not about this.

If Tony was scared or surprised, he didn’t show it, keeping everything in so he could be Stephen’s strength. “How many did we win?”

Stephen stared at his husband for a long time, wishing he could keep them in this moment forever. _Oh, Tony . . ._ “One.”

* * *

When they finalized their plan, Stephen nodded once before grabbing Tony’s metal-covered hand and pulling him towards the half-destroyed ship. “We have time to talk.” He ignored the other’s looks. 

Once they were alone, Stephen half-collapsed against his husband, arms wrapped around his shoulders. Tony dropped the nanites, pulling Stephen closer. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re here now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Stephen nodded against Tony’s chest, feeling his heartbeat. His voice was hardly a whisper. “I'm so tired. I want to go away from the world with just you, and it would be us, alone, always.”

Tony didn’t know what to say. He just held him and hoped it was enough. 

After a while, Stephen looked up at him. “Our vows.”

“What?”

“Our vows. Remind me.”

“Okay.” Tony was getting worried now, but he couldn’t refuse Stephen. “I went first. I said how important you are to me, and I meant it. And I promised to love you no matter what and trust you with the human disaster that is me.”

Stephen laughed — a choked, tired laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

Tony smiled and kept going. “And I finished by saying I’d always catch you when you fall. Still mean it. Then you went, you talked about how . . . difficult our lives have been since Afghanistan. But you said you’d do it again.”

“Because I love you,” Stephen whispered. “I love you. What about what Rhodey said, with the rings, remind me of that. What did I promise you?”

“We promised . . .” He stroked Stephen’s hair. “. . . to ‘love, honor, cherish, and protect each other, forsaking all others, and holding only unto each other forever’.” He looked down. “Did I get it right?”

Stephen nodded. “Yeah. You did.” He ran shaking fingers through Tony’s hair. “You used to have such fluffy hair.”

Tony chuckled. “Still cute, though.”

Stephen tried to return his smile. “Yeah.” His hands trailed lower, reaching up Tony’s shirt. He checked his watch. “We have a bit of time.” He started to pull Tony’s shirt up.

Tony stopped his hand, frowning. “Wait, is this part of what you saw?”

“No,” Stephen said, shaking his head. “But I need you right now.”

* * *

Later, when they were dressed and more-or-less cleaned up, they joined the others outside. Stephen squeezed his husband’s hand one last time before flying to the top of a ruined staircase crowned by half of a building. Soon, the others were in position. Peter was hiding on top of a piece of metal above him, the Guardians were to the left, and Tony rose above them all. 

They didn’t have to wait long.

Thanos was as tall as the Hulk, with purple skin just shy of pale, with no hair. He wore a sort of purple-and-gold armor that left his arms bare, with no helmet or weapon. Stephen supposed that at a certain point, you no longer thought people could hurt you, so why bother?

The gauntlet had four stones in it.

Stephen looked him over appraisingly. “Oh, yeah. You're much more of a ‘Thanos’.”

Thanos looked at the destroyed ship they’d come in. “I take it the Maw is dead.”

Stephen nodded once.

“This day extracts a heavy toll. Still, he accomplished his mission.”

“You may regret that,” Stephen said quietly. It didn’t matter. Thanos heard him. “He brought you face-to-face with a Master of the Mystic Arts.”

“And where do you think he brought you?”

Stephen looked around just for show, already knowing. “Let me guess. Your home?”

There was something like a smile on Thanos’s face. “It was.” He closed his fist, the red light of the Reality Stone shining. “And it was beautiful.” The land changed, becoming a pavilion filled with people, thriving green plants, clean fountains, and huge blue buildings under a clear sky. “Titan was like most planets. Too many mouths, and not enough to go around. And when we faced extinction, I offered a solution.”

Stephen tilted his head, trying to hide his disgust. “Genocide.”

“But random, dispassionate, fair to rich and poor alike. They called me a madman. And what I predicted came to pass.” He unclenched his fist, returning Titan to its ruined state. 

“Congratulations,” Stephen said sarcastically. “You’re a prophet.”

Thanos looked up at him. “I’m a survivor.”

“Who wants to murder _trillions_.” The real number was far more than that, and both knew it.

“With all six stones, I could simply snap my fingers and they would all cease to exist.” He snapped with his uncovered hand. “I call that . . . mercy.”

Stephen stood, taking a step forward. “And then what?”

“I finally rest . . . and watch the sun rise on a grateful universe.” He looked at the ground. “The hardest choices require the strongest wills.”

Stephen summoned his mandalas. “I think you’ll find our will equal to yours.”

“Our?” Thanos looked up just in time to see a chunk of wreckage the size of a building coming down on him, propelled forward by Iron Man. In an instant, he was crushed by it, the impact blowing dust and dirt over the ruined plaza.

“Piece of cake Quill,” Tony said, flying down to join them. 

Quill put his mask on, shooting forward on his boots. “Yeah, if your goal was to piss him off!”

Suddenly, the wreckage was filled with purple light, blowing up before stopping. Thanos screamed in rage before the gauntlet glowed again, the hovering fragments of metal turning into swarms of bat-like creatures, chasing Tony through the sky.

Before Thanos could do something else, Peter moved, webbing his eyes and kicking him in the face. Drax followed, shouting something incomprehensible as he cut at Thanos’s legs with his knives, knocking the Titan to his knees. 

Stephen portaled down to them, summoning the Sword of the Vishanti to counter Thanos’s wild strikes. Tony finally circled back just as Thanos caught the sword by its blade and ripped the webs from his eyes. Thanos tried to grab Stephen, but Quill came up from behind, shooting him in the back. Stephen threw orange disks of energy at him, allowing Quill to hop from place to place before slapping a bomb onto Thanos’s back, ending with a flip over the Titan. Just as Stephen opened a portal for Quill to jump back into, he flipped Thanos off. “BOOM!”

The explosion was enough to knock Thanos down again, buying a moment of time. Stephen whispered to the Cloak, “Don’t let him close his fist.” The relic immediately flew off, wrapping around the gauntlet and stilling Thanos’s powers.

As the Titan tried to pull it off, Peter jumped through portal after portal to deliver his blows. “Magic!” He hit him in the cheek. “More magic!” He pulled Thanos head down and kicked him in the side. “Magic with a kick!” As promised, he kicked Thanos straight across the face. “Magic with a—”

Thanos caught him by the throat, slamming the teen on the ground. “ _Insect._ ” He threw him at Stephen, knocking both of them to the ground.

Stephen winced, but he’d known it was coming. So far, everything was as it had to be. 

Thanos finally managed to tear the Cloak off, and it flew back to Stephen. The Titan immediately tried to use the gauntlet again, but was stopped by Tony bombarding him with fiery explosions, not giving him a moment’s peace—

Until Thanos gathered the flames with the Power Stone and turned them back on Tony, knocking him through one of the starry buildings.

Peter quickly stepped back in, webbing the gauntlet and trying to pull it towards him. Thanos turned it back on him, pulling the kid to him and punching him in the face before pulling the webs off—

Right on cue, a spaceship crashed/flew into Thanos, plowing him into the ground hundreds of feet away.

Thanos stood, hardly even dazed. Nebula leaped from the ship, jumping up to punch him in the face before drawing a blade. Thanos stepped back, looking at his daughter. “Well, well . . .”

“You should have killed me,” Nebula said, black eyes blazing.

“It would have been a waste of parts!”

Nebula ran forward, striking him with her electricity-infused sword. “Where’s Gamora?!” 

Thanos kicked her, strong enough to send her flying back. Stephen moved quickly, sending glowing red bands to wrap around the gauntlet, straightening Thanos’s fingers. 

The Titan tried to pry them away, but Drax moved in then, kicking his foot so Thanos went to his knee. Drax held his leg in place, refusing to let him budge.

Quill joined them, using an electric field to trap his other arm. Peter strung around, wrapping webs around Thanos’s chest to pull from the back. As soon as Tony came and took the arm with the gauntlet, Stephen dropped the red bands, quickly opening a portal above Thanos’s head. Mantis fell through, landing on his shoulders.

Thanos struggled, bellowing in rage, but so far they were holding strong. Mantis’s hands were at his temples, her body tensing in concentration, her antennae glowing, until—

“Is he under?” Tony asked, trying to pull the gauntlet from his hand as Stephen wrapped new bands around the other arm. “Don’t let up.”

“Be quick,” Mantis said, struggling to continue. “He is very strong.”

“Peter, get over here!” Peter ran to help him. “She can’t hold it much longer, we gotta move fast.”

They were all holding him in place to get the gauntlet . . . except Quill.

The half-alien man joined them now, smirking. “I thought you'd be harder to catch. For the record, this was my plan. Not so strong now, huh?” He moved close, his face becoming serious. “Where is Gamora?”

Thanos could barely speak. “My . . . Gamora.”

“Oh, bullshit,” Quill said harshly. “Where is she?”

“Quill,” Stephen said, struggling with the others. “Do you want to maybe give us a hand and ask questions later?”

“He is in anguish,” Mantis said, close to screaming. “He . . . he mourns.”

“What does this _monster_ ,” Drax panted, “have to _mourn_?”

“Gamora,” Nebula said quietly, standing behind Quill. 

Quill turned, staring at her with a look on the edge of disbelief and devastation. “What?”

“He took her to Vormir.” Her voice was rough, almost dazed. “He came back with the Soul Stone. But she didn't.”

Tony’s helmet dissolved, though he kept pulling on the gauntlet. “Okay, Quill, you gotta cool it right now, you understand?”

Quill turned back to Thanos, a blank look in his eyes. 

“Don't, don't, don't engage,” Tony said, his voice getting louder with every word. “We've almost got this off!”

Quill stared at Thanos. “Tell me she’s lying.”

Nebula was looking away, unable to face them. 

“ _ASSHOLE!_ _Tell me_ you didn’t do it!”

Thanos’s words came out slowly, morphing into one another. “I . . . had . . . to.”

Quill shook his head, tears forming in his eyes. “No you didn’t. No you didn’t.” His face twisted in pain and rage, and his blaster landed hard on Thanos’s face. “NO YOU DIDN’T!” He hit Mantis’s hands, and she flinched back in pain, moving them from his temples.

Tony reformed his helmet, running forward and dragging Quill back. “Stop, stop! _STOP!_ ”

“I got it!” Peter said as the gauntlet started coming loose of Thanos’s hand, “I got it—”

Thanos’s eyes cleared. He butted Mantis’s head back and pulled the gauntlet from Peter, knocking him to the ground before throwing Mantis from his shoulders. 

Peter leapt up, catching her in his arms and letting the Iron-Spider legs set them on the ground. 

In seconds, Thanos managed to dislodge the rest of them. Drax went sprawling across the broken stone, and Stephen was thrown far away from the others, landing hard on his back and unable to breathe or move for a moment. Tony flew up and shot at him with repulsors, but Thanos punched him back before knocking Quill, Drax, and Nebula out with a blast from the Power Stone.

Tony got back up, fighting Thanos with cannons and even a sword sharp enough to cut stone. But nothing so much as scratched him. Thanos managed to force him back long enough to activate the Power and Space Stones.

At first, Tony couldn’t tell what he’d done. Then he looked up, and saw the moon start to rain down on them.

Tony flew up, trying to weave through the huge chunks, but got caught on one of them, slamming him into the ground. 

Peter and the Guardians were propelled through the sky. Peter shot webs at the others, pulling them to him. “I got you! I got you! I’m sorry, I can’t remember anybody’s names!”

Stephen threw a glance his way to make sure the kid was already before setting down on a floating rock, facing the Titan. The sorcerer moved first, summoning familiar orange rings to his hands before hitting them to the ground. Bolts of red-orange heat moved from rock to rock before hitting the one Thanos stood on. The Titan didn’t wait, jumping up and sending a blast from the Power Stone straight at the sorcerer.

Stephen stood his ground, summoning the Mirror Dimension to absorb the energy and before throwing the fractures forward. Thanos stopped it with the Space and Power stones, turning the Mirror Dimension pathway into a black hole that grew larger and larger—

Stephen spun a ball of magic in his hands, throwing it up an instant before the black hole hit him, transforming it into a kaleidoscope of crystalline butterflies that fluttered gracefully past them. 

Before Thanos could attack again, Stephen levitated up, his arms multiplying around him. A hundred versions of himself split off into different directions, surrounding Thanos. Each of them formed a golden whip that wrapped around the Titan’s hands, chest, head, legs—

It wasn’t enough. Thanos closed the gauntlet, using the Soul and Power stones to destroy the duplicates until only Stephen was left. 

Thanos pulled him forward with the Space and Reality Stones, catching him by the throat. “You're full of tricks, wizard.” Stephen was helpless as he tore the Eye of Agamotto from him. “Yet you never once used your greatest weapon.” He crushed the Eye in his hand, revealing . . . nothing.

Thanos looked at him, golden dust falling from his hand. “A fake.” 

He threw Stephen to the ground, his head smacking the hard stone, and the world went dark. 

Thanos stepped towards Stephen’s limp body, preparing to close his fist once more—

A red-and-gold nanite device kept the Titan’s fingers spread as Tony landed in front of Stephen, blood boiling with rage. “You lay another hand on my husband, and I'm gonna fucking lose it.”

There was something like familiarity in Thanos’s eyes. “Stark.”

Tony hesitated. “You know me?”

“I do. You’re not the only one cursed with knowledge.”

Tony breathed. “My only curse is you.” Tiny rockets flew from his back, glowing blue as they headed towards Thanos. 

The Titan braced himself. “ _Come on._ ”

They exploded on impact, shrouding Thanos in smoke as Tony flew forward, directing them away from Stephen as he put his whole body into a kick to the Titan’s chest before flipping backwards. His boots morphed to act as clamps, stabilizing him as he pushed Thanos back with fists like battering rams. 

Thanos shook it off, running forward and pulling Tony’s helmet from his head. Tony only had enough time to reform a new one and raise his hands in defense before the Titan punched him hard enough to send him sprawling on the ground. When he looked up, Thanos had managed to tear his contraption from the gauntlet, making a fist to send a bolt of purple power at Tony. He defended himself with a shield, holding his ground before twisting away. 

Tony flew at Thanos at full-speed, using a boot-clamp to pin the gauntlet to the ground before spinning around and hitting him with all the force he had—

Thanos panted for a moment, softly wiping the cut on his cheek. “All that for a drop of blood?” He picked Tony up by the leg, sending him arching back before punching him to the ground. Tony raised his hands to his face, but everything was happening too quickly. He was being slammed into the ground, cuts and bruises all over his body, all too fast for him to defend himself.

Thanos picked him up and blasted him back with the Power Stone. When Tony fell, he realized he was running out of nanites, leaving large gaps undefended. He struggled to his knee, trying to push Thanos back with his repulsors, the nanites leaving his leg uncovered as he fought in sheer desperation—

It wasn’t enough. Thanos walked right up to him and tore what remained of the helmet from his head before trying to land a blow with his hand. Tony held up his arms, now only half-covered by the suit. He had to think, to move, to do _something_ , and he dropped one arm, all the nanites from the other one abandoning it to form a sword that he thrust forward—

Thanos caught the blade and tore it from him, driving it through his stomach. 

Tony stumbled back, a scream caught in his throat as he felt his cells being torn apart and blood fill his body. Thanos walked him backwards, holding the sword in place until Tony was sitting, unable to fight anymore.

The Titan set his hand on Tony’s head in a twisted gesture of comfort. “You have my respect, Stark. When I'm done, half of humanity will still be alive.” He stood straight, his hand gone. “I hope they remember you.”

Tony gasped in pain, blood spilling from his mouth. He wanted to move, to fight, but there was nothing. He was done.

He closed his eyes as Thanos raised the gauntlet one more time—

“ _Stop._ ”

Stephen struggled to sit up, his head a heavy weight, his entire body screaming in pain. He forgot all of it when he looked at his husband. Stephen could see the shock and betrayal in those brown eyes he loved so much, and he hated what had to happen next. “Spare his life . . . and I will give you the stone.”

Thanos seemed almost amused. “Your world in the balance, and you bargain for one man?”

Slowly, Stephen nodded.

“No tricks?”

“None,” Stephen breathed, his lungs weighed down. 

“Don’t . . .” Tony said, blood pouring from his mouth. “Stephen, _please_ . . .”

Stephen looked away from him, holding his hand up and twisting gently. The Time Stone appeared between his scarred fingers, tiny and glowing and destructive. He stared at it for a moment, the sense of foreboding he’d felt hitting him at full force. 

Tony tried to stand, but couldn’t, falling harder on the ground as he watched helplessly. “Stephen, _don’t!_ ”

Stephen looked at his husband, his eyes softening. “Tony . . .” He’d thought it would be difficult, that he would have to force himself to hand the stone over.

It was the easiest thing in the world.

The Time Stone levitated towards Thanos, easily caught in his hand. The Titan cast one last suspicious look at Stephen before setting it into the gauntlet. Green energy pulsed through him, making the Titan gasp in pain before looking down. “One to go.”

Three quick energy blasts hit Thanos in the chest, startling him enough to drop his hand. Quill flew forward, screaming in rage and shooting him again and again, until Thanos simply used the Space Stone and left. Quill landed on the ground, pointing his blaster. “Where is he?!”

There were just enough nanites left for Tony to patch his wound up, though it would never heal if they didn’t leave soon. He panted for a long time before looking at Stephen. “Why did you do that?”

There were so many things he expected. _I love you. You’re my husband. I’m sorry. I hit my head, I wasn’t thinking right. Forgive me. It was a fake._ Maybe even, _It was part of the plan._

What he got was somehow worse.

“We’re in the endgame now.”

* * *

The others found their way back to them. Peter helped Tony struggle to his feet, leaning on the teen as he limped over to Stephen. Tony wanted to scream, to grab him by the shirt and shake him and demand to know what he was thinking—

“Hold me,” Stephen said, sounding small.

Tony stared at him in disbelief. “Seriously? You want to—”

“Tony, _please_ , there isn't much time, so just— please hold me.”

Tony almost refused, almost turned away . . . but Stephen was hurt.

“Kid, help me down.” Peter did so, for once completely silent. Tony wrapped an arm around Stephen, wincing when he did.

Stephen looked at him with tears in his blue-green eyes. “Forgive me. Not for what I’ve done to the world, but for what I’ve done to you.” Slowly, he raised his hands, shaking now more than ever, and grabbed the chain his wedding ring hung on, pulling it off and holding it out to Tony. 

Tony stared for a long time before he realized what was happening. He shook his head. “No. _No._ Nothing’s going to happen to you. I promised, remember? To protect you.”

“You promised you wouldn’t die before me,” Stephen reminded him, his voice a whisper. “You promised.” He forced the ring into Tony’s hand, wrapping his fingers around it. “Please.”

Tony shook his head. “There has to be a way . . . something we can do . . . maybe the others, on Earth—”

Mantis looked around, eyes wide with fear. “Something’s . . . happening.”

Tony watched in horror as she dissolved, turning into dust in only a few seconds. 

Drax looked at his friend as his arms started to fade. “Quill?” He shut his eyes, and didn’t open them.

Tony held out a hand. “Steady, Quill.”

The Guardian shook his head. “Oh man.” He leaned back, and his body dissolved.

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Stephen said quietly, their eyes catching one last time. “But this was the only way.”

Tony shook his head. “No, Stephen, _NO—_ " 

His husband was gone, leaving only dust and ash where he’d been.

Tony felt himself breaking into a thousand pieces, barely able to hold himself together . . .

“Mister Stark?” Peter stood over him, stumbling on his feet as his hands slowly broke apart. “I don’t feel so good.” 

Tony immediately got to his feet, ignoring the pain and grief, and caught Peter in his arms. “You’re alright. You’re okay, you’ve gotta be okay, Peter . . .”

“I don't— I don't know what's happening!" Peter was only sobbing, tears falling down his face as his weakening hands scrabbled for purchase. "I don't wanna go, I don't wanna go, sir, _please_. Please, _I don't wanna go._ ”

Tony set him on the ground, shaking his head, unable to hold back the tears. _No, no, please, not him too, not him, he’s just a kid, you can’t do this, you can’t take him and Stephen, no, no PLEASE—_

Peter looked at him one last time, his arms and chest crumbling away. “I'm sorry.” He turned away, and his ashes fell on Tony’s hands. 

Tony's first thought when the dust settled was, _I did it, Stephen. See? I kept my promise._

When the thought passed, he started laughing. And when he couldn't laugh anymore, he sobbed, his own tears drowning him as he lay amongst the ashes of everything he loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In hindsight, it might be good that this isn't canon. RDJ's performance would have killed us all.
> 
> Fun fact: Stephen and Tony weren't married for a full year before Tony became a widower  
> Fun fact #2: Stephen never mentions if he actually found a good future
> 
> Tony and Stephen would definitely be the type to call each other husband all the time and annoy everyone else, and no you can't change my mind


	13. Avengers: Endgame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor warnings for this chapter at the end notes

_— 2018 —_

Tony rolled over in bed, snuggling into his husband’s side. “We should stay here,” he said quietly, his face buried in Stephen’s chest. “We should just stay here and never leave.”

“Today?” Outside, the waves broke on the rocks that surrounded them. There was no one for miles around. They were alone in the palace Tony built, and nothing could hurt them.

Tony shook his head. “Always.”

Stephen chuckled, his hands gently brushing through Tony’s hair. “We’d have a hard time staying here forever. What would people say?”

“It doesn’t matter. I would make them stop. I would make them leave us alone.” _Leave_ **_you_ ** _alone._ He looked up, staring into those blue-green eyes like glass.

Stephen was frowning. “Tony . . . why are you sad?”

 _No, that’s . . ._ “What? Stephen, I’m not—”

Stephen raised a hand to his cheek. It came away wet. “You're crying. For me?” He looked sad. “I'm sorry, dear. I didn't mean to make you cry.”

His face started crumbling.

Tony shot up, trying to hold Stephen together as he turned to dust in his hands. “Stephen, no, please, I’m sorry, I’m trying, Stephen, please come back, don’t go, don’t leave me, _STEPHEN—_ ”

* * *

He used to think that Stephen had a plan. He had to. All of this must somehow be necessary.

Then he thought that maybe Stephen didn't have a plan. Maybe they never won, not even once, or maybe they only had one chance and they fucked it up, and Stephen had decided to give Tony a chance to survive what so many others wouldn't.

Now he mostly just thought about how tired he was.

He wasn’t sure when exactly he woke up. The ship was running with everything but the absolutely necessary functions off in an effort to stretch out what they had, but that wouldn’t last forever. Not that it mattered. Thirst and starvation would kill them first.

He waited until after Nebula had left him to sit by herself, consumed as she was by her own grief and guilt and rage, to get his helmet out. Half-destroyed, it had just enough life in it for one last message.

“This thing on?” He started recording, watching with something like dread and something like relief as the eyes lit up. “Hey, Miss Potts. If you or Rhodey find this recording, don’t feel bad about this. Part of the journey is the end. I don’t know if you’ll ever see this. I don’t know if you’re even . . . but you have to be.” He leaned back against a wall, breathing hard. His body felt heavy despite the weight he’d lost. Like the whole universe was weighing down on him. “It’s day . . . twenty-one? No, twenty-two, that’s it. You know, if it wasn't for the existential terror of staring into the literal void of space, I'd say I'm feeling better today.” All his worst nightmares stared in at him from outside the _Benatar_. Not that it mattered; he had new nightmares now. “The infection's run its course, thanks to the blue meanie back there. Even Stephen would be impressed with her work, given the circumstances. Oh, you’d like her. Very practical. Only a _tiny_ bit sadistic. Some of the ship’s fuel cells were cracked during battle, but we figured out a way to reverse the ion charge to buy ourselves about . . . forty-eight hours of time, I think.” His memory was all over the place, foggy and disjointed and slightly out of reach. “But now it’s dead in the water.”

Tony thought he might have passed out for a moment. He shook his head, picking back up. “We're a thousand light years from the nearest 7-11. Just for the record, being adrift in space with zero promise of rescue is more fun than it sounds. Food and water ran out . . . four days ago . . . oxygen’ll run out tomorrow morning, and that’ll be it. I know I was trying to lead a quieter life . . . but I was really hoping to pull off one more miracle.” He wondered what he would have done if he'd known it was his last night with Stephen. Be gentler, to start. Kissed him more, shown his love and told it too, whispered sweet nothings and called him something soft and kind.

“Stephen, if you’re . . . there somewhere . . . when I drift off, I’ll be with you again.” When he looked to his side, Stephen was there. His hair was inky black without a trace of silver. His face was clean shaven, his hands unscarred. It was the Stephen he’d met ten years ago, but he smiled at Tony like he’d loved him all his life. When he held out a hand, it didn’t tremble. “I can’t wait.” He shut off the helmet and prepared to go to sleep.

* * *

Stephen sat beside him. He looked the same as a moment ago, only now he wore his blue robes with the Cloak at his back and the Eye of Agamotto around his neck. He didn’t bother to face Tony. “Does Tony Stark sit and wait for rescue then give up when it doesn't come?” His voice was monotone, unimpressed, angry. “My Anthony has always saved himself. He always protected me. He would at the _very least_ have avenged me.”

Tony tried to shake his head. It was hard; he was barely more than a skeleton with a thin layer of flesh by that point. Even a vulture wouldn't want him. “I can't anymore. I just . . . I _can't_.” _I’m sorry, Stephen. I’m so sorry._

Stephen stared at him for a long time before standing up. “Well, then you're not the man I loved.” 

Tony tried to follow him. “No, baby, please, don’t leave me alone—”

He was gone.

* * *

Tony woke with a start, gasping in desperate breaths. His lungs were screaming at him for help, but he ignored them, standing up and stumbling along the wall, not even noticing that he’d somehow been moved to the captain’s chair. 

He found Nebula lying in wait for the end.

“C’mon,” Tony said, slurring his words. “C’mon, we’ve gotta . . . we’ve gotta do something.”

She looked up at him from her chair. There was something like sadness in her black eyes. “There’s nothing. It’s over; he won.” She turned. “Rest. There’s nothing left for us.”

Tony shook his head, feeling like it was going to fall off. “No. _No._ We can’t . . . there has to be something. Stephen, he had to have . . .” Stephen had to have seen something. They had to have a chance, a single shot. Because otherwise . . . otherwise, Stephen killed half the universe for him, and even that hadn’t lasted a month. “He wouldn’t . . . if there was no way, he wouldn’t.”

Nebula didn’t respond. She didn’t want to waste the energy she had left on a lost cause. 

Tony didn’t believe in lost causes. “Even if it’s all for nothing . . . I can’t die like this. I can’t just lie down and take it. If I die, then it better be _trying_. It can’t end like this.” He punched the wall. He wanted his hand to bleed; he wanted to know Stephen’s pain, and fight for him back. “He killed your sister. He killed everyone she loved — everyone but you. You can’t— we can’t—” He struggled to breathe. The air was thin, but he kept going. “He took Peter. I loved that kid like he was my own. He took my h— he took my whole life. He took _everything_. Survival is not the goal anymore.”

Slowly, Nebula faced him.

For the first time since Stephen crumbled away in his hands, there was fire in his blood. “We’re gonna kill Thanos. If I have to drag him into Hell with me, _we are going to kill Thanos._ He doesn’t get to do that to us. To _them_. He dies.” He pounded his fist on the wall again. “I don’t care if I live. _He dies._ ”

For a long time, long enough that his vision started to blur and he wasn’t sure she was even there anymore, Nebula stared at him. Then— “What do you need me to do?”

* * *

They worked until their fingers wouldn’t move and their lips turned blue. They were united in a single desire: killing Thanos, even if it meant killing themselves. There was nothing they could do to fix the ship or make more water and air, but they managed to put together a beacon. The distress signal it sent out was designed specifically for Friday to pick up. He had no idea if it would work, but it was a chance. At saving themselves, at killing Thanos, at bringing back the others. It was something they didn’t have before.

Tony smiled at his work and the hallucination of Stephen standing above him before the world went black.

* * *

There were hands. Familiar hands. _Stephen?_

No . . . Stephen’s hands . . . they didn’t have that strength in them anymore.

 _Who?_ He looked up. 

Rhodey was on one side of him, Pepper on the other. There were tears in his oldest friend’s eyes. “How was the funvee?”

Tony shook his head. “I couldn’t . . . he killed them . . . Stephen and Peter, he . . . they’re . . .” He looked down, unable to hold himself up. “I tried.”

Rhodey looked sick, but he held himself together for Tony’s sake. “We all did.”

Tony shook his head wildly. The others didn’t understand, couldn’t. It was _his_ job to protect Stephen. He promised, and now Stephen was _dead_ because of him.

 _My fault, my fault, my own worst fault . . ._ He collapsed into their arms, and wouldn’t blame them if they left him to die.

* * *

Tony didn’t wait. As soon as he was conscious and had some fluids in him, he got in a wheelchair to strategize with the others. 

Rhodey sat by his side, keeping an eye on him even as he spoke. “It's been twenty-three days since Thanos came to Earth. World governments are in pieces. The parts that are still working are trying to take a census.”

Holograms above the compound’s table showed people they’d lost. _Sam Wilson. Bucky Barnes. Wanda Maximoff. Vision. T’Challa. Shuri. Scott Lang. Hope van Dyne. Groot. Nick Fury. Maria Hill._ Tony looked away when Stephen and Peter’s faces were shown side-by-side, his chest aching.

Rhodey squeezed his hand in comfort, letting Natasha take over speaking for him. “It looks like he did . . .” For once, even Natasha could barely speak. “He did exactly what he said he was going to do. Thanos wiped out fifty percent of all living creatures.”

The Avengers, sans Clint and plus the woman who’d apparently found him and Nebula, all sat in silence for a moment. Thor, apparently alive, sat by Bruce, their hands just barely touching. Steve and Nat looked away from the others. They were all still reeling, and would probably never stop. They’d never lost before . . . even when someone died or it wasn’t everything it needed to be, they’d never lost . . .

 _How could I do this?_ “Where is he now?”

“We don’t know,” Steve said in his almost monotone voice. “He just opened a portal and walked through.”

Tony looked around, his eyes landing on Thor. The Asgardian’s head was dipped, ignoring Bruce’s efforts to speak to him, and he was dressed in dingy human clothes. He seemed to be brooding, for once lost in thought. 

Tony had no patience for anyone else’s misery. He had plenty of his own. “What’s with him?” 

“Yeah, he’s pissed.” Tony spent a moment searching for what was speaking before his eyes landed on the apparently-sentient raccoon. “He thinks he failed. Which of course he did, but there's a lot of that's goin' around, ain't there?”

Tony was too busy staring to take in everything the raccoon said. “Honestly, until this _exact second_ , I thought you were a Build-A-Bear.”

The raccoon shrugged. “Maybe I am.”

And that was just too depressing to contemplate.

Steve drew their attention back to the matter at hand. “We've been hunting Thanos for three weeks now. Deep Space scans, satellites, and we got nothing. Tony, you fought him.”

Tony stopped, stared at him. “Who told you that? I didn't fight him. No, he wiped my face with a _planet_ , and then my _husband_ . . .” He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. “Then Stephen decided to get all sentimental and give away the _universe_. _That's_ what happened. There was no _fight_.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve said quietly, looking down. “Did Stephen say anything? Did he give you any clues, any coordinates?” 

“What did he say? While he died in my arms? God, what did he say again?” Tony tilted his head as though he were thinking. “Gosh, I think I remember. He asked me to hold him, then to _forgive him_ , then he gave me his wedding ring — still got that, by the way.” He held up the chain around his neck, Stephen’s grey metal ring clicking against his own. The others were squirming in their seats, most of them looking away. _Good._ He wanted them to feel as lost and broken and _tired_ as he did. “Then what . . . oh yeah, he reminded me of something I promised him when I was stupid and didn’t know what was going to happen. And the last thing that my _husband_ ever said to me before crumbling into dust was, ‘this was the only way’.” He was shaking, his starved, skinny chest barely able to take it. “Does that answer your question, Rogers? Any _clues_ in that, do you think?”

“Tony,” Rogers said, standing up.

Tony shook his head, his eyes focusing on the wall, taking in all the tiny grooves and scratches and flakes of dust floating in the air. “I saw this coming a few years back. I had a vision. I didn't want to believe it. I went to therapy for it. I shook and cried in Stephen’s arms for _hours_ because of it. And now it’s happened.”

“ _Tony_ ,” Rogers repeated, “I’m gonna need you to focus.”

Tony wanted to laugh, to grab him by the neck and shake him until they both fell apart. “And I _needed_ you.” His eyes pinned Steve in place, like a crystalline butterfly kept in a case. “As in _past_ tense. That trumps what you need. Sorry, not sorry.” 

Steve looked away, trying to find the thing to say, and Tony was just so done with him. 

“You know what I need?” He stood up suddenly, his hands all over the place as he knocked papers and plates and medicine around the table. “I need a _shave_.” Rhodey was at his side, trying to calm him down, but Tony ignored him in favor of tearing the IV from his arm. “And I believe that I said, _Cap,_ that we needed a suit of armor around the world. Remember that? Whether it impacted our precious _freedoms_ or not, _that’s what we needed!_ ”

“Well that didn’t work out, did it?”

Tony stepped closer to him, every movement a burden. “You said . . . that we’d fight it together. Well, guess what, Cap? We lost, and _you weren’t there_.” He stumbled, his hands on the table. “But that’s what we do, right? Our best work after the fact? We're the _A_ vengers, the _A_ vengers, not the _Pre_ vengers, right?”

Rhodey tried to take him back to the wheelchair. “Okay, you made your point. Just sit down, you’re still—”

“No, no, no, no.” He pushed Rhodey away. “No, here’s my point.” His hands and arms were all over the place, barely controlled by himself anymore. “You know what, we need you.” He managed to point to Carol Danvers. “You're new blood. Rest of us, a bunch of tired old mills!”

“Tony!” Rhodey tried to pull him back, only to be ignored once more.

Tony stared at the man who betrayed him. “I got _nothing_ for you, Cap. I got no coordinates, no clues, no strategies, no _options_. Zero, zip, nada, no _trust_ , _liar_.” He pulled the arc reactor, its nanites gone and the light just barely glowing, from his chest and shoved it into Steve’s hand. “Take that, and put it on if you find him. You . . .” His vision was blurring. Stephen stood behind the captain, his hands shaking as he looked on sadly. “You _hide_ . . .” His legs gave out, and he fell to the floor with Stephen above him.

* * *

When he woke again, Stephen was sitting in a chair by his infirmary bed. 

Tony desperately tried to sit up, his head spinning. “Stephen . . .”

His husband looked on sadly while Christine and Pepper, sitting nearby, moved to him. “Tony,” Pepper said quietly, “are you okay, you just collapsed . . .”

Tony shook his head. What did it matter? Didn’t they see? “Stephen—”

Christine’s eyes were red. “I know.” She wrapped an arm around Tony’s frail shoulders. “I know.”

Tony stared at Stephen before noticing that he was . . . off. His hands were scarred, but they didn’t shake. He still had his beard, but gone were the signature silver streaks in his hair. He was dressed in clothes more suited to the man Tony had first met than the one he fell in love with.

Tha hallucination smiled sadly. “I’m sorry, my star. I know this isn’t how you wanted to see me again.”

Tony shook his head, eyes burning as tears poured forth. “No . . .” He clutched Christine’s hand desperately. “ _No._ ”

* * *

Steve couldn’t look at him when the Avengers came back from their search for Thanos. “He . . . the stones are gone. He destroyed them.”

Tony stared at Stephen’s star-colored eyes for a long time before turning to Rogers. “Get out.”

* * *

Wong came to see him the next day. 

He had no help, no plans, no ideas. Only an explanation. “It’s not him, Stark. Only an . . . unusually strong hallucination. Likely it’s due to exposure to magic.” For the first time since they’d known each other, Tony saw the other man with grief on his face. “If you want, I can make it stop—”

“No!” Tony breathed in, forced himself to look away and put his hand over Pepper’s when she rubbed his back. “No, it’s . . . leave him.”

* * *

The same day, a man Tony had never met in person came to see him.

It was, perhaps, unfair to say they didn’t know each other. After all, they were technically family, and had even spoken together a few times on the phone. He was invited to their wedding originally, but ended up being one of the people to not go after they scaled the whole affair down. 

Rhodey and Pepper sat with him as Victor Strange came in, exhausted, wearing dirty clothes with red-rimmed eyes that looked ready to shut forever. 

He looked at Tony, not quite seeming to see him, or anyone else for that matter. “Is he . . . no one will tell me. No one knows what’s going on, and . . .” His voice wavered. He didn’t look like his brother except for his high cheekbones and eyes that, though an almost acidic green, had the same sharp look that could cut you to the bone. “You were with him, weren’t you? Is he here? Is he okay, is he hurt, is he . . .”

Tony and his brother-in-law stared at each other. Slowly, Victor shook his head. “No. He can’t . . . he just . . .” His voice broke. “He _can’t_ . . . he's my brother, he’s . . .” He sunk into a chair, the light in his eyes dimming. 

Christine, who’d never met the man in person but felt bad for him nonetheless, held out a gentle hand. “He—”

Victor shot up suddenly, looking at Tony with fire and _hate_ in his green eyes. “You were with him. _You were supposed to protect him._ If you couldn’t do it for the rest of us, couldn’t you have done it for him?” He stalked over to Tony, ready to lay into him, but Rhodey stood, his high-tech braces glowing against his legs. 

“Hey man, calm down,” Rhodey said quietly, trying to diffuse the situation. “We’re all . . . tense right now.”

Victor laughed harshly. “Tense? _Tense?_ Is that what you call half the fucking planet just _gone_ and the person who should’ve protected my brother best left him to _fucking die—_ ”

Pepper rose then, standing in front of Tony protectively. Tony spoke before she could.

“No, it’s okay.” His throat was dry and ached. “He can say whatever he wants to me.” It was his weakness that killed them all. If he had gone with them to kill Thanos, if he had been there, if he had _thought_ , if he hadn’t been so weak and _useless and—_ “I killed his brother.”

* * *

By the time night came, he was well enough to leave the infirmary. The hallucination followed him with concern in its glass eyes. “Tony? Tony?”

Tony ignored it, heading for his room. The door to the Sanctum Sanctorum was still there and working. He went through, heading for the closet.

For almost seven years, he’d kept a single bottle of whiskey, first at the mansion, then the tower, then the Sanctum. _“I'm not going to drink it,” he assured Stephen. “I just feel better knowing it's there. Like a safety net.”_ Stephen had reluctantly agreed. And Tony hadn't drunk a drop. For all the pain and anger and grief and temptation, he had always managed that much.

Guess everything has to end sometime.

When Rhodey found him, he was close to passing out, laying on the floor and reeking of alcohol and vomit.

Rhodey stared at him. “Tony . . .”

Tony couldn’t take it. “He’s gone,” Tony sobbed. There was a cut on his hand. From broken glass? He couldn’t remember. “How can he be gone? He said he'd always be here. He promised. He _promised!_ ”

Rhodey sat down beside him, trying to draw Tony into a hug. “I know it’s hard, Tones. But Stephen wouldn’t—”

“I don’t _CARE!_ I don’t _care_ what he wanted or wants or whatever he thought! He’s gone, and he left me here! Why did he leave me?” He cried into Rhodey’s chest. “Why did he leave me, Rhodey? I thought I was enough.”

“You were,” Rhodey said, rubbing circled into Tony’s back. “I swear you were. He didn’t love anyone like he loved you.”

Somehow, that made it worse. “I should have died with him. _I should have died._ ”

Rhodey tried desperately to comfort him while Tony’s hallucination, a shadow of the real thing, of his flesh and blood husband, could only look away.

* * *

_— 2023 —_

He wanted to stay in bed. The blankets were too cold with no one beside him, but an imprint of Stephen lay in front of him, calm and serene, not saying anything. His hand rose—

Someone knocked rapidly on his door, followed by one of the teens shouting, “Irondad! Jackson’s making a mess in the kitchen, and we’re supposed to make cookies today!”

“Oh my God, Riri, you can’t just go whining to Tony whenever someone else _exists_ around you!”

Tony sighed, drawing a hand down his face. “Give me a minute!” He looked at the hallucination. “My work is never done.”

Stephen smiled. “Guess not.”

Tony waited a few seconds before pulling himself out of bed. He’d somehow managed to sleep in a bit, so he couldn’t really complain. By the time he got downstairs, Pepper and Christine had somehow corralled the kids into the kitchen and started getting out ingredients to make cookies. 

After Rhodey found him . . . how he did five years ago, the others decided that it wasn’t safe for him to live alone. Rhodey was too busy picking up the pieces of the world as War Machine, and Tony couldn’t bear to be in the Sanctum for more than a few minutes. As for the compound . . . He couldn’t fight anymore. The thought of suiting up made him want to vomit. There was nothing for him there.

So, Pepper and Christine. The two women, now married themselves, were amongst his greatest comforts. The others were the children.

When the Snap — or Decimation, as most people called it — left millions without their families. Parents, spouses, siblings, friends, all gone. A lot of people took in whatever loved ones they could, but others didn’t have that option. Now there were orphanages all over the world filled to bursting with children who had no family to raise them. After everything that happened, it was a surprisingly easy choice to take in some of them.

Riri, Jackson, and Nico were the teens, and the ones who took the longest to adjust. Lysa and Michael were just barely old enough to remember their own parents. Tess and Elisa were infants when the Snap happened. And Morgan . . . Morgan was Christine and Pepper’s daughter. 

He couldn’t adopt every kid in the world who lost their family, although Tony’s money kept a great many shelters and orphanages open and running. But he could do this. He could make these kids’ lives better. He could try. 

Tony quickly snatched some chocolate chips from a bowl and popped them in his mouth, laughing when Christine smacked his hand in annoyance. “Tony, do _not_ fuck with me today, I woke up an hour early to vomit.” 

Tony faux-gasped. “ _Language_.”

Christine threw a chocolate chip at him, much to the delight of the younger kids. Tony chose not to retaliate, if only because at eight months pregnant, Christine’s center of gravity was so off that even a single piece of chocolate might send her plummeting. 

Christine basked in her victory before tapping his hand with a wooden spoon. “Go get Madame Secretary, tell her it’s time to get baking. Hey, hey! Michael, the butter is _not_ for licking!”

Tony quickly ducked out before Michael could start another butter war, walking over to the extensive play area they had set up for the kids and sitting down in a chair that was too small for some stuffed animals. “Mor-goon-a,” he sang. “C’mon, time to make cookies. Chocolate chip, your favorite.”

Morgan popped out of a small play tent, a fake Iron Man glove on her hand and Pepper’s definitely- _not_ -fake Rescue helmet on. “Define chocolate or be disintegrated.” 

Tony raised his hands, speaking quietly. “You should not be wearing that, okay? That’s part of a birthday present for your mom.”

“Oh, come on,” Stephen said, standing behind Morgan. Today, he was wearing his old scrubs with his facial hair and scars intact, but no silver in his hair. “It’s _adorable_.”

Tony shot a _not now_ look at the shade before gently removing the helmet from Morgan’s head. “There you go. You ready to make cookies with your moms and siblings? Maybe throw some crickets in there, give ‘em all a surprise?”

Morgan shook her head, smiling mischievously. “ _No._ ”

“Oh? Why not?”

“I don’t like crickets.”

“Oh, well, that’s fair.” He held up the helmet. “Where’d you find this?”

“Garage,” she said simply.

“Yeah? Were you looking for it.”

She shook her tiny little toddler head. “No. I _found_ it though.”

“You like going through the garage, huh? So do I.” He picked her up, deciding to put the helmet away later. “It's fine. Just be more careful in there, okay?”

Morgan was playing with her hair. “Okay, daddy.”

Tony smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. The older kids sometimes called him ‘Irondad’ to differentiate from their parents who were gone now, but just as often called him ‘Tony’. The youngest, the ones who could hardly remember a world different from the one they knew now, were more likely to call him ‘Dad’ than anything else. For a while, they’d considered trying to get Morgan to call him ‘Uncle’, but then Tony burst into tears the first time he ever heard her say ‘Dada’, and the rest was history.

They were just going up the porch when Tony stopped, noticing the black car that was coming up the driveway. Stephen’s shade stood beside him, openly scowling. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Tony barely stopped himself from saying ‘language’ again.

* * *

He knew that Riri, Jackson, and Nico were watching them speak from the windows, but he didn’t have the energy to stop them. Not after what he’d just heard. 

_“I was stuck in the Quantum Realm for five years,” Scott Lang (because apparently the man from Leipzig_ **_did_ ** _have a name) explained, “but it felt like five hours. Everything works differently there, it’s like its own tiny universe._ **_Time_ ** _works differently. What if there was a way to enter the Quantum Realm at a certain point in time but then_ **_exit_ ** _at another point in time? Like before—_

Tony closed his eyes, refusing to even think the name. 

“Tony,” Steve said, “after everything you've seen, is anything—”

“Quantum fluctuation messes with the Planck scale, which then triggers the Deutsch proposition,” Tony said, pouring himself a smoothie (he was trying to cut down on coffee). “Can we agree on that?”

Steve, Natasha, and Scott’s response was to look very confused. Tony resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _Stephen would know what I was talking about._ He glanced at the hallucination as though to confirm his thoughts. It smirked back.

“In layman’s terms,” he continued, passing Steve a smoothie, “it means you’re not coming home.”

Scott raised his hand like an over-eager student wanting to impress their teacher. “I did.”

“ _No_ , you accidentally survived. It's a _billion_ to one cosmic fluke. And now you wanna pull off a . . . what did you call it?”

Scott smiled proudly. “Time heist.”

Tony smiled condescendingly. “That’s right. Of course, why didn't we think of this before? Because it's laughable? Because it's a pipedream?”

“The stones are in the past,” Steve said with the same plain facial expression he always had. “We can go back and get them.”

“Snap our own fingers,” Natasha said quietly. “Bring everyone back.”

“ _Or_ ,” Tony countered, “we could screw it up big time. Trust me, when I lived in the Sanctum, I had about a dozen lectures a week about how easy it is to fuck up the universe, and messing with time is one of the big ones.”

“I don’t think that’ll happen,” Steve said.

This time, Tony didn’t hesitate to roll his eyes. “Not to say I don’t miss the optimism, but high hopes aren’t gonna get us anywhere good if there's no _logical_ , _tangible_ way to _safely_ execute said time heist. I believe the most likely outcome would be our collective demise, possibly even _everyone’s_. It’s not worth the risk.”

Scott shook his head, apparently willing to believe anything. Tony understood. He hadn’t been there for the past five years, hadn’t yet gone through the grief and desperation and disbelief and _pain_ and acceptance. 

But to be fair, most of them never got to that last part either.

“That won’t happen if we strictly follow the rules of time travel. That means no talking to our past selves, no, no betting on sporting events—”

Tony raised a hand to stop him, sharing a look with his lost husband. “Is this guy for real?”

 _Yeah, no kidding._ “Scott, are you _seriously_ telling me that your plan to save the universe is based on _Back To The Future_?”

Scott looked away awkwardly. “. . . No.”

“Good. Because that horse shit is not how quantum physics works _at all_.”

“Tony,” Natasha said, standing with her arms crossed and her back to the lake. “We have to take a stand.”

“We _did_ stand. Including a lot of people who aren’t here to stand with us now.” The shade moved closer to him, but not close enough to touch. Tony couldn’t feel him anyway. “And here we are.”

Scott leaned forward, looking genuinely serious. “I know there’s a lot on the line. Believe me, I do. But I lost someone very important to me. A lot of people did. I _know_ you did.” Tony looked away, his hand twitching, wanting to reach up and grab the ring that rested against his heart. “And now, _now_ , when we have a chance, even if it’s a small one, even if it’s _one in a billion_ , to bring them back, and you’re telling me that you won’t even _think_ —”

The front door suddenly opened. Morgan ran out and crawled into Tony’s lap. Riri stood in the doorway, shooting the visitors’ a death glare that Stephen would have been proud of. “Mom said you guys might want to leave soon.” 

* * *

He waited until the kids were in bed (or at least on their phones) before doing the dishes. Which ended as it usually did: with water every-fucking-where.

Tony sighed and dropped the spoon he’d foolishly tried to spray-clean in the sink before surveying the damage. Some of the water had gotten on dried dishes, on the counter, and on . . . 

Tony gently picked up the picture frame. Stephen, Peter, and a younger version of himself stared back, Peter’s internship certificate held up in the middle. It was one of the few times they’d ever gotten Stephen to smile for a picture, and one of the only pictures he had of the three of them together. He looked at it for a long time before sighing and going to the living room. 

He worked for a few hours, going through old models and ideas and theories he’d had in the first year after the Snap, searching for something he’d somehow missed. “Fri, let’s run one last sim before we pack it in for the night. This time, in the shape of a Mobius strip, inverted, please.”

“Processing,” responded, a glowing blue model taking form above the coffee table. 

Tony moved the model around, thinking. “Give me that eigenvalue, particle factoring, and a spectral decomp. Gotta take a second.” He drank from a cup of coffee that he’d sworn he wouldn’t make, trying to relieve the tension from his shoulders. Stephen was sitting cross-legged on the couch behind him, watching attentively. “And don't worry if it doesn't pan out. I'm just kinda—”

“Model rendered.” 

Tony stared in shock, his now empty mug slipping to the table. _99.987% — Model Successful._

He fell back to the couch, covering his hand and forcing himself to breathe. He turned to stare at his hallucination. "Is this what I'm meant to do? Is this what you saw?"

Stephen seemed equally shocked, but could only shrug. "How should I know Tony, I'm a hallucination resulting from a combination of your tired and depressed mind and prolonged exposure to magic!"

Tony nodded, looking away. “Right. Got it.”

He wasn’t quite sure how he made it to Pepper and Christine’s bedroom, but he did. Pepper opened the door almost immediately, seeming unsurprised. “Nightmare?”

Tony shook his head. “Not exactly. Can I come in?”

Pepper widened the door for him. “Be my guest.”

Christine was still awake, lying in bed in a blue robe that reminded him of Stephen and reading a book. “We thought you might still be up.”

“Am I that predictable?” He sat on the end of the bed.

“And you always have been.” Christine wasted no time in putting her feet in Tony’s lap and laying her head on Pepper’s shoulder when she joined them. The two women shared a look.

Before either of them could say anything, Tony spoke. “Oh my God, are you two plotting something? Am I going to die? Am I dead?”

“Oh, come now Tony,” the shade of Stephen said, leaning against a wall. “We can’t _both_ be dead, it just wouldn’t make any sense.”

Tony glared at him before returning his attention to Christine, who was quite used to him staring off and speaking to someone who wasn’t there by then and simply moved on with the conversation. “Pepper and I were thinking, and, if it’s okay with you . . .” She took Pepper’s hand in hers, squeezing it reassuringly. “We were thinking of naming the baby Stephen. You know, if it’s a boy.”

For a moment, Tony couldn’t even think, simply staring at her and unconsciously drawing a hand over his mouth. Finally, he ducked his head looking away slightly though he tried to keep his tone light. “He would hate that. He thought naming kids after dead people was pointless and stupid and depressing.”

“Yeah,” Christine said with a chuckle, “he was kind of an asshole.” She paused, smiling sadly. “I miss him.”

Tony nodded, not quite looking at her. “Yeah . . . me too.”

They sat in silence for a minute. Tony was about to tell them what he’d found when there was a small knock on the door. 

Tony patted Christine’s foot before standing up. “I got it.” He opened the door, smiling when he saw Morgan. “Hey, little miss. Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?”

Morgan shook her head. “No.”

“Oh, really? Why not?”

“I can’t sleep. Why are you here?”

He looked back at Christine and Pepper, who were smiling at them and being no help at all. “Because, I had a lot on my mind and I was talking to your moms about it.”

Morgan nodded before tilting her head. “Was it juice pops?”

Tony smiled. “Obviously. Come on, let’s get some. Pep, Chrissie, I’ll talk to you later, the alpha female needs her snack.” He started to close the door before pausing. “I think it’s a great idea, Christine.” He left without hearing her response.

* * *

They feasted on one fruit pop each before Tony took Morgan upstairs and tucked her into bed, Tess and Elisa sleeping soundly in the next room. “There you go. Tired now?”

Morgan shook her head, but was struggling to keep her eyes open. “Tell me a story.”

“A story.” He pretended to think about it. “Once upon a time, a girl went to bed. The end.”

Morgan laughed. “That’s a _terrible_ story!”

Tony shook his head. Stephen stood on the other side of the bed, looking down at the little girl sadly. The knowledge that they would never meet each other . . . “You already know all my stories.” _And the ones I don’t tell you never end well._ He kissed her forehead. “I love you tons.”

Morgan snuggled into her pillow. “I love you three thousand.”

Tony smiled, wishing they could never leave this moment. “Wow. That’s a lot. That’s gonna make your moms jealous.” He stood up, turning off the lamp. “Night, night. Go to bed or I'll sell all your toys.”

* * *

Later, he lay in a cold bed, the vision of something long dead beside him. 

Tony reached his hand out across the bed. “Can you touch me? Just for a moment?”

The shade sounded sad. “I'm not here, Tony. You know that.”

Tony scoffed. “Duh.”

Blue-green eyes stared at him in the darkness. “You should go to sleep.”

“God, were you this bossy before? Starting to wonder why I miss you at all—” He broke off mid-sentence, choking on his own words. “I'm sorry. I didn't—”

“It's okay, Tony,” Stephen says softly, murmuring the words against Tony's hair. Almost close enough to touch. Almost close enough to feel. “It's okay. Go to sleep. I'll be with you.”

“You promise?”

Stephen nodded. “Yes.”

“You promised before.”

“I know. I wanted to keep my promise.”

Tony shut his eyes. “But it was my fault. I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t save you.” He rolled onto his side, staring at the image. “I could try again. But . . . God, Stephen, what if I fail?”

Stephen smiled slightly. His eyes shone like stars. “What if you win?”

* * *

Tony drank his Starbucks coffee as he drove down the road, occasionally glancing at his hallucination of Stephen, which was sitting in the passenger seat lazily holding a hand out the window. “You know if I have to drive and someone’s with me, they’re getting the passenger side.”

Stephen scoffed, looking weirdly out of place with his tux combined with the Cloak of Levitation. “No. I’m the missus, this is my spot.”

“And what am I supposed to tell people? That the hallucination of my dead husband wants the front seat, so you can’t have it?”

“Yes.” Stephen looked out the window as they neared the compound. “Rogers is out.”

“Yeah, obviously I noticed that, or how would you know?”

“Ouch. Hallucination humor? That’s offensive to me, Tony. I’m offended.” They pulled up to the compound, Tony getting out of the car while Stephen appeared next to him. “Ask him if Lang turned into a baby.”

 _I was gonna do that._ “Why the long face? Let me guess . . . you had to change Scott’s diaper.”

“No . . .” He muttered something else under his breath. “What are you doing here?”

Tony ignored him, walking around to the back of the car and opening the trunk. “That's the EPR paradox. Instead of pushing Lang through time, you might've wound up pushing _time_ through _Lang_. It's tricky. Dangerous. Somebody shoulda cautioned you against it, oh wait!”

“You did,” Steve said, resigned.

“Well then, thank _God_ I’m here.” He found the bag he was looking for and set it to the side before holding up his hand, showing off the device. “A fully functioning Time-Space GPS. Plus—” he handed Steve the bag, “—a gift.” He watched Steve take it, saw the almost imperceptible way he widened his eyes. “You can stick that under a Christmas tree if you want. Or not, considering it is definitely _not_ December.”

Steve took the shield from the bag, looking up at him. “Tony . . . I never should have lied to you, but—”

Tony held up a hand to stop him. “No buts. Just help me get them back.”

Slowly, Steve nodded. “I am sorry, Tony.”

Tony smiled crookedly. “Well, that I’ll take.”

“I still think you should have put baby oil on it,” Stephen said. “Just enough to make it slippery. It would have been amazing. You could have taken a video and shown me when I got back.”

 _Let’s just work on_ **_getting_ ** _you back for now._ “Is the team here?”

* * *

“Hey, Smurfette,” Tony said when Nebula came out of the Benatar, Rocket and Rhodey close behind as the wind from the ship blowing Lang’s taco filling all over the ground. “The kids missed you at dinner last week. Don’t worry, I said you hate them now. Totally saved it.”

“What about me?” Rhodey asked, landing next to him in the War Machine suit.

“Oh, they didn’t ask about you.” Tony ignored his offended sputtering, looking to the raccoon. “Morning, trash panda.”

“I’ll eat your fucking face, Stark!” Rockets shouted back, hopping over to Rhodey and climbing up to his shoulder. 

“But then who would make you new guns?” Tony asked innocently, smirking as Rocket tried and failed to come up with a retort. “Bruce wants you to go with him to pick up Thor.” Tony would have loved to go with them, if only to see the awkwardness that ensued as Bruce and Thor spoke for the first time since their breakup four and a half years ago, but he was needed at the compound.

On that note . . . Tony found his old workshop and started getting out plans. Once, some time after they had given up on trying to fix what Thanos had broken, he’d tried to make a new suit. Tried to think back to Titan and what he could improve. But just the thought of it . . . new armor that Stephen would never see or admire or help with or run his hands over . . .

He didn't make the suit. But he still had the plans for it, along with dozens of small notes and details he’d added through the years. He pulled the hologram off, showing it to the image of Stephen. “What do you think?”

The hallucination smiled. “I think I’m gonna love it.”

* * *

It took days of constant, around the clock building and theorizing, but they had something workable. Enough to start testing, at least. 

Scott showed them the (truly hideous) white, red, and grey suits they would have to use to enter the quantum realm. He held up a glass bottle full of something red. “These are Pym Particles, alright? Since Hank Pym got snapped out of existence, we can _not_ create any more. We've got enough for one round trip each, plus two test runs. That’s _it_. No do-overs. So we need to decide now who’s doing the test runs.”

Tony nodded, seeing “Stephen” roll his eyes at what he was going to do. “I’ll do it.” The others turned to look at him. “Makes sense, I’m the one who actually made time travel work.” _I’m the one who lost._ “It should be me.”

Bruce shook his head, reaching out a hand as though to hold him back. “Tony, if this doesn’t work, we can’t risk you. You understand this stuff better than any of us.”

“I can—”

“How about I do it?” Clint said, fresh in from Japan with an awful new haircut and a lot more murders under his belt. “You guys hardly need me for this. Won’t be risking anything.”

“That’s not true,” Natasha said quietly. But no one objected to him going.

Scott, Natasha, and Steve helped Clint with the quantum suit while Tony and Bruce looked over the machine to make sure everything was ready. It took Tony a minute to notice Bruce, now in Hulk/Bruce form (which, _what_ ), glancing up at Thor before looking back down again and repeat.

Tony knew what had happened to Thor. He knew that he took their loss even harder than most people, as hard as Tony himself. He’d become a recluse in New Asgard, giving into his depression and anger and becoming an alcoholic who thought of neither the past nor the future. Even now, he avoided the others, blowing them off with jokes and smart alleck replies in favor of a beer. It was sad.

That didn’t stop Tony from rolling his eyes. “Word of advice,” Tony said, not looking up at Bruce but nonetheless making it clear he was speaking to him, “fix it. Whatever it is, whatever it takes, just fix it.”

Bruce looked between him and Thor, mouth gaping awkwardly, before stuttering out, “It’s not—”

“No, I don't care. I've spent the past five years wishing I could just have one more minute with Stephen. I look back at the stupidest things — arguments about TV shows and the way his brow crinkled when he was reading and how cute he was tired — and I have to fight not to cry. Now I finally have a chance to get him back, and I'm terrified I'm gonna fuck it up, but I'm gonna do it. And it wouldn't matter if it was only for one minute. That would be the best damn minute of my life. But you . . . you have a chance to skip to the good part right now and fix it. Don't waste it.” He paused before adding, “Besides, he’s an alien. Who knows. He might be into the whole big and green thing.”

Before Bruce could even hope to formulate a response that wasn’t hopeless blushing, Clint took his place on the platform. “Okay,” Tony said, loudly enough for everyone to hear him, “this works, and I’ll do the next test run, make sure it’s not a fluke and it’ll work for everyone.”

Sitting on top of the machine, everything about him the same as that day on Titan except for his unscarred hands, Stephen looked at him and laughed. “Do you think they buy that?”

_Do you think they care enough not to?_

Bruce finally managed to speak, avoiding Thor and Tony’s eyes. “Clint, you're probably gonna feel a little discombobulated from the chronoshift. Don't worry about it, just—”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Rhodey said, standing with Nebula, “let me ask you something. If we can do this, you know, go back in time, why don't we just find baby Thanos, you know, and . . .” He gestured as though making a noose and tightening it around his neck.

Tony too busy laughing his ass off to answer. Bruce, looking horrified, said, “First of all, that's _horrible—_ ”

“It’s _Thanos_!”

“—and second, time doesn’t work that way! Changing the past doesn't change the future.”

“Why not?” Scott said. “We go back, we get the stones before Thanos gets them, Thanos doesn't have the stones. Problem solved.”

“Bingo,” Clint said, two idiot minds thinking alike.

“That’s not how it works,” Nebula said, sharing an exasperated look with Tony, who had finally calmed down enough to speak. 

“Did you guys get all your time travel knowledge from movies?” He asked, sharing an unimpressed look with Stephen’s shade. 

“Uh, yeah,” Scott said. “ _Star Trek_ , _Terminator_ , _Quantum Leap_ —”

Rhodey nodded, adding some examples of his own. “ _Timecop_ , _Time After Time_ , _A Wrinkle in Time_ , _Somewhere in Time—_ ”

“ _Hot Tub Time Machine_ , _Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure—_ ”

“Basically, any movie that deals with time travel!”

“ _Die Hard_?” Scott shook his head, frowning. “Wait, no . . .”

Rhodey ignored him. “This is known!”

“Oh, that’s great, Rhodey,” Tony teased. “What’s next, you gonna think all war and spy movies are accurate? Historicals? Any high school movie that involves things other than homework and depression?”

“Think about it,” Bruce said while Rhodey shot Tony a mildly concerned look, “if you travel to the past, that _past_ becomes your _future_. And your former _present_ becomes the _past_. Which can't now be changed by your new future!”

“It’s pretty simple,” Tony said, twirling a screwdriver around out of boredom.

Scott was looking down. “So . . . _Back to the Future_ ’s a bunch of bullshit?”

Tony shook his head, ignoring him as they started to get in position. “Alright, Clint.” A helmet covered the archer’s head. “In three . . . two . . . _one_!”

The quantum portal opened under Clint’s feet as he shrunk down, becoming too small to see in less than a second and then gone entirely. Tony looked at a monitor. “Bruce, we know where he is?”

Bruce slowly nodded. “Yeah, I think he’s good.” 

They waited a minute to give him some time to walk around, carefully monitoring him. “Okay, let’s bring him back. In three . . . two . . . and—”

Clint reemerged on the platform, laying on his side and breathing heavily, one hand curled protectively around something. 

They ran up to see him as his helmet withdrew, leaving him to look around with confusion and awe. “Hey,” Natasha said, leaning down to check on him. “Look at me. Are you okay?”

Clint nodded, looking down at the object in his hand. A baseball glove. “It worked. It worked.”

* * *

Tony wasted no time in pulling on the suit, nodding absently to Bruce as he spoke. “Okay, okay, I’m ready.” 

Bruce looked at him with concern, but didn’t try to stop him, allowing the helmet to form over Tony’s head before speaking. “Okay, you’re down in three . . . two . . . one—”

The air abandoned his lungs as he shrunk down, moving through particles and molecules and atoms and, _Oh, fuck—_

He remembered what Stephen told him once about looking and moving through the multiverse. _It’s like you’re a grain of sand in the wind, and it’s all you can do to try to control where you’re going as the world around you morphs and shifts and becomes new._ Tony stopped thinking about his body and focused on the suit, changing directions until the blue vortex he’d been lost in spit him out somewhere.

 _Somewhere_ was probably the best description for where he ended up. He landed hard on the ground, tall grass surrounding him as the sun looked down from a clear sky. He tried to sit up, to look around—

Separated from him by a nearby fence, Stephen stood with his back to his husband, absently humming a song as he groomed a horse.

Tony sat up in the grass, staring unabashedly. He had never seen Stephen so young, not even in photos. He couldn’t have been older than eighteen since that’s when he was last in Nebraska. His black hair lacked its typical neatness and signature silver streaks, and he was wearing a blue checked shirt with jeans and a pair of honest-to-God _cowboy boots_ , but Tony would have recognized him anywhere. 

He started to stand up, intent on doing something, _anything_ , but suddenly he felt a pull in his stomach, yanking him back. “Step—”

* * *

_— 1997 —_

As soon as Stephen was inside, he closed and locked the door, quickly going into the living room. “Don’t open the door if someone knocks.”

Donna looked up at him from the couch where she was helping Victor with his homework. “What? Why not?”

Stephen pulled off his boots, setting them by the door. “There was some weird guy in a laser tag suit just laying in the grass and staring at me for like, a minute before disappearing. It was weird.”

Victor smirked. “What, was it your boyfriend?” 

Stephen stilled for a moment before remembering that their parents weren’t home. Even Victor, annoying as he was, wouldn’t make a joke like that in front of them. Not about Stephen. “Please,” Stephen scoffed, “he looked like he was in his _forties_.”

“Wow, Stephanie, didn’t know you were so desperate—”

Stephen reached around the couch and pulled Victor up by his shirt, trapping him with a chokehold. “ _Vic_ ,” Stephen said as his brother struggled against his hold, “remember what we said about you trying to be funny? It just doesn’t work.”

“Stephen,” Donna said warningly. “Let him go.”

Stephen waited a moment before reluctantly doing so. “Fine. I’m sorry, Vic—”

Donna jumped over the back of the couch and tackled Stephen to the ground, loosely putting an arm around his throat. “Submit! I am the alpha of this house!”

“I am _taller than you—”_

* * *

_— 2023 —_

Tony gasped as he landed in the compound, his entire body shaking as tears started to fall down his face. 

“Tony?” Bruce said, standing over him worriedly. “Tony, what happened?”

Tony smiled past his joyful tears. “It was him.” He looked up at Bruce. “Now _that_ was the best minute of my life.”

* * *

“Okay,” Steve said as Tony pulled up six holograms, each of them displaying a different infinity stone and what they knew about it, “so the ‘how’ works. Now we gotta figure out the when and the where. Almost everyone in this room has had an encounter with at least one of the six infinity stones.”

“If you want, you can substitute the word ‘encounter’ with ‘damn near been _killed_ by one of the six infinity stones’,” Tony said neutrally, sipping his coffee and wearing the reading glasses that Stephen had liked on him. Everyone was gathered in one room to brainstorm ideas, him and Steve, Rhodey, Bruce, Thor, Rocket, Nebula, Natasha, Clint, Scott, and Tony’s hallucination of Stephen, who was currently laying on the table and making obscene gestures out of boredom. 

Scott half-raised his hand. “Uh, I haven’t. I only vaguely know what you’re talking about.”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is, we have limited Pym Particles, so we need to figure out the best times and places to pick up the stones.”

Steve nodded in agreement. “So, let’s start with the Ather. Thor, what do you know?”

Thor was leaning back in a chair with a pair of dark sunglasses on and definitely not responding.

Everyone stared. “Is he asleep?” Natasha asked. 

“I’m pretty sure he’s dead,” Rhodey said.

Bruce sighed and walked over to his ex, gently shaking him. Thor immediately jolted awake, jumping to his feet and dropping the drink he’d fallen asleep with. “Aether! Yes, the Aether.” He walked to the projections, wincing behind his sunglasses. “Where to start . . .” He stared at the hologram for a long time before speaking again. “Right, well, first of all, the Aether is not a stone, someone called it a stone before. It's more of a . . . and angry sludge thing, so . . . someone’s gonna need to amend that.”

Tony had Friday make a note.

“Here’s an interesting story though, about the Aether . . .” he trailed off for a moment before taking off his sunglasses and smacking them to a screen. “Many years ago, my grandfather had to hide the stones from the Dark Elves.” He wiggled his fingers spookily. “Ooooh. Yes, very scary. So Jane, actually . . . oh, Bruce, you remember Jane? We went to one of her . . . science things on a date? Then she stuck her hand in a rock, and the Aether got all stuck inside here, and we had to go to Asgard to fix it?”

Bruce was trying very hard to be small again.

Thor, oblivious to this, continued. “Well, we were all on Asgard, and Bruce met my mother . . . who’s dead.” 

HalluciStephen leaned next to Tony’s ear. “Someone put him out of his misery.”

No one put him out of his misery.

“And now my father and Heimdall and so many of my other friends are dead. And Asgard’s gone. And my brother, Loki.” Thor sounded like he was on the verge of tears, rubbing at his eyes. “And you know, Bruce and I aren’t even dating anymore. But these things happen though, nothing lasts forever.”

Seeing no one else was going to do anything, Tony gently tried leading Thor to a chair. “Okay, you’re done.”

“Wait, I’m not done. The only thing that _is_ permanent in life is _impermanence_ —”

Tony clapped quickly before returning to his mission of getting Thor to sit the fuck down. “Awesome, great job big guy. Let’s just . . . there you go. Eggs? Breakfast?”

Thor finally sat down. “A bloody mary, thank you.”

“. . . Okay, fine. Everyone, breakfast break!” 

This was arguably the best idea any of them had so far. 

Tony messaged Pepper in between making enough eggs and bacon to feed a small army. _How’s Christine doing? The kids?_

It took a few minutes for her to respond. _Christine’s fine. Tired and achy, but nothing new. Riri is working on her robotics project, Jackson and Nico are watching a movie, and the kids are playing with your alpaca._

Tony smiled. _OUR alpaca!_

_Maybe when he stops eating my goji berries._

Tony laughed before putting his phone away, settling in for breakfast with the others.

Still, there was no time to waste. Rocket walked the length of the table, punctuating his sentences by taking a bit out of a muffin ( _homemade_ , thank you). “Quill said he stole the power stone from Morag—”

“Is that a person?” Scott asked, sipping on a smoothie.

Rocket looked at him like he was dumb (though really, that’s how the raccoon looked at everyone). “ _Morag_ is a planet. _Quill_ was a person.”

“A planet?” Scott seemed awfully excited about the idea for someone who’d shrunk small enough to enter a different dimension. “Like, in outer space?”

“Oh, _look_ ,” Rocket said mockingly. “It's like a little puppy, all happy and everything.” He started petting Scott’s hair, much to the man’s annoyance and resignation. “Do you wanna go to space? You wanna go to space, puppy? I'll take you to space.”

Sitting in an empty seat, Stephen laughed.

* * *

“Thanos found the Soul Stone on Vormir,” Nebula told them in the same deep, rough voice she always used, but that was subconsciously exaggerated whenever she spoke of Thanos or Gamora. 

Natasha nodded along to what she said, taking notes. “What is Vormir?”

“A dominion of death, at the very center of Celestial existence. It's where . . .” She struggled to speak. “Thanos murdered my sister.”

Everyone stopped, alternating between looking at Nebula sympathetically and staring at the floor. Tony set a gentle hand on her shoulder. Nebula didn’t push him away. 

* * *

“Okay,” Natasha said tiredly, laying alongside Tony and Bruce on the floor amongst a mountain of pillows and blankets. “Time Stone?”

“I got that one,” Tony volunteered. “It’ll be in Kathmandu pretty much any time earlier than Thanos. I can get there through a place in the village.”

Natasha paused, looking at him. “Greenwich Village?”

“Yeah. Nice place on Bleecker Street. Stephen and I used to . . . Doesn’t matter. I can handle that one, just need to figure out when.”

Natasha sat up. “Guys, that means if we pick the right year, there are three stones in New York.”

They all stared at the ceiling for a moment before Bruce sat up. “Shut the front door!”

* * *

_TIME HEIST:_

_New York, 2012 — Space Stone, Mind Stone, Time Stone; Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Scott Lang_

_Asgard, 2013 — Reality Stone; Thor, Bruce Banner, Rocket_

_Morag/Vormir, 2014 — Power Stone, Soul Stone; James Rhodes, Nebula, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton_

Six stones, three teams, one chance. They got ready before the sun rose, dressing in the Quantum Realm suits Tony and Scott had made for everyone. The night before was the first time Tony had slept well in ages.

Steve spoke as they stood before the machine, ready to move out. “Five years ago, we lost. All of us. We lost friends. We lost family. We lost a part of ourselves.” Stephen’s wedding ring was on a chain around Tony’s neck, tucked safely under the suit. “Today, we have a chance to take it all back. You know your teams, you know your missions. Get the stones, get them back. One round trip each. No mistakes. No do-overs. Most of us are going somewhere we know. But it doesn't mean we should know what to expect. Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight of our lives. And we're gonna win.” Tony couldn’t help his smile as he looked at Stephen’s shade, wearing the suit he’d met Tony in with a familiar watch around his wrist. “Whatever it takes. Good luck.”

Rocket seemed impressed. “He’s pretty good at that.” 

“ _Right?_ ” Scott said, fanboy that he was.

Tony rolled his eyes. “You heard the man. Brucey, stroke those keys and get up here.”

Bruce nodded as he finished prepping the machine. “Tractors engaged.” Now done, he joined the rest of them on the glassy floor of the (for lack of a better term) time machine. “We’re ready.”

Tony was sure that was the first time he ever saw Natasha with a genuine smile. “See you in a minute.”

Bruce turned the time machine on.

* * *

_— 2012 —_

They shot through the vortex in less than seconds, the universe becoming a blinding and confusing away of colors and molecules and atoms. Then—

Chitauri aliens were attacking the city. The team was battling them only a few streets over. And Stephen was performing surgery at the Metro.

Stephen was there.

Stephen was _alive_.

The only thing that kept him from running all the way to the hospital then was Steve saying, “Alright, we have our assignments. Two stones uptown, one stone down. Stay low, move fast.”

 _Right. The mission._ Tony nodded slowly, using the device around his wrist to transform his suit, only snapping out of his reverie when the Hulk passed them on the next street, beating an alien to death with a car while another alien decided to just back away. _Smart choice._

“I’m gonna head to the Sanctum.” Hopefully no one noticed that there were two Iron Mans flowing around. “Meet you at the tower.” Steve and Scott nodded their acknowledgment, and Tony took off, occasionally shooting down a Chitauri soldier but generally trying not to draw too much attention to himself as he made the way to the Village. 

He wasn’t sure what he expected, but somehow he was disappointed not to see Stephen there, even though he knew he wouldn’t be. But it _hurt_. Like a physical ache in his chest, it hurt to have Stephen so close and not see him. 

But there was a (somewhat) familiar face there.

The Ancient One stood on the roof of the New York Sanctum, effortlessly striking down aliens with spinning orange fans made of pure energy. If she was surprised to see him land on her building, then she didn’t show it, merely lowering her hands and looking at him. “Mister Stark. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

His helmet retracted into the suit so they could speak better. “Hi. Um, I’ve met you—”

“Yes, I think you have,” she said cordially, pulling a simple wooden fan out of nowhere and lightly fanning herself. “And I know you.”

“You do?” Right. She’d seen him while looking through the future.

“Yes. Though it may surprise you, we do get the news here.”

“Oh. Well, yeah, I know, I lived here, but— wait.” She was wearing the Eye of Agamotto, the Time Stone kept safe behind a gold cage. He pointed at the pendant. “I need that.”

She looked down at the Eye, and when she looked back at him, her expression hadn’t changed, but there was something sharp to her eyes. “I’m afraid not.”

Tony had two options. He could beg and plead and try to explain his reasoning . . .

. . . or he could save a lot of time and get Stephen back faster by snatching it quickly and running away.

His decision-making skills had really gone down the drain with Stephen gone.

“Don’t you do it,” the hallucination said warningly. “It won’t end well for you.”

Tony had never been very good at listening to Stephen. Or his own mind, for that matter.

“It was a long shot anyway,” he said with a shrug, his helmet moving into place as his boots prepared to take off. “I’ll just go and—” His hand shot out, inches away from the Eye—

The Ancient One’s hand fell flat on his chest, and suddenly he was weightless, helplessly moving backwards as his body fell to the ground in front of him.

Stephen shook his head. “Told you.”

“I know,” Tony muttered, trying to regain control of his movement.

The Ancient One watched him flop around with amusement. “Shall we start over?”

Tony sighed. “Yes, please.”

The Ancient One fanned herself before turning and catching sight of a Chitauri flyer that threatened to get too close. Seconds later, it fell to the ground below as a razor-sharp blade sliced it straight down the middle. She spoke without missing a beat. “Why are you here?”

“In my . . . world? Timeline? Whatever, where I’m from, there was a battle, five years ago— or, about six years from now your time— wait, hold on—”

“You might have just said twenty-eighteen.”

Tony paused for a moment before nodding in agreement. “Yeah, that probably would’ve been easier. Time travel’s confusing. Anyway, there was a fight and we lost. We as in _everyone_. Half of our entire universe was wiped out because some purple jackass took a single semester of economics and philosophy in college and thought he had the solution to everyone’s problems.”

“Ah, I understand now,” The Ancient One said, seeming less confused than Tony himself. “You think it can be undone with the Time Stone.”

Tony fiddled with his hands, their gesturing almost out of his control. “Yes, but also not exactly. None of us can use the Time Stone on our own, and we’d probably just fuck everything up worse if we did. But we _can_ use all six Infinity Stones, just like he did. We can undo it . . . if you give me the Time Stone.” Tony thought he made a pretty good case for his cause.

The Ancient One let out a breath. “I’m sorry to say that I can’t help you.”

Apparently not.

Stephen shook his head. “Gonna have to try harder than that, hubby.”

 _Shut it, you._ He was unnerved for a moment when he saw the Ancient One staring in the direction of his mind’s projection, but he shook it off. _Focus on the goal, Stark._ “I’m not really sure why you’re saying no so quickly, I feel like I have a pretty valid reason—”

“I am saying _no_ , Stark-Strange—” Tony froze, staring at her, “—because if I give you the stone to save your reality, I will be dooming my own. I’m sorry, but there is nothing I can do.” She started to walk away, Tony floating after her.

“I don’t know if the science of that really holds up.”

She stopped suddenly, turning to look at him. “You are as insufferable as your husband was and will be.” 

Ignoring the ache in his chest, Tony shot back, “It’s a staple of our family.”

She ignored him, twisting one hand and summoning an endless line of orange light, shooting between them like an arrow. “The Infinity Stones create what you experience as the flow of time.” Six mini-stones circled the light. “Remove _one_ stone—” she flicked the tiny green Time Stone away, causing part of the light to branch off and turn an inky black, “—and that flow splits. This _may_ benefit your reality, but in _my_ new one, we will be overrun without our chief weapon against the forces of darkness. At best, _millions_ will suffer. So, tell me, Stark-Strange, can your science prevent that?”

“No,” Tony admitted. _But I’ve come too far to only come this far._ “But I can erase it.” He found the stone she’d moved and held it between his fingers. “Once we’re done with the stones, we can return each one to its own timeline at the _exact_ moment it was taken. Then,” he placed the Time Stone in its spot with the others, cutting off the dark timeline, “it never left.”

The Ancient One seemed troubled, almost moved. But she drew her hand through the orange light, making it fade. “It’s an impressive idea, and you’ve pulled off miracles before and will in the future. But I can’t stake my reality on a promise, not when you can even guarantee your own survival. It is the duty of the Sorcerer Supreme to protect the Time Stone.”

Memories of Stephen lying bloody on the ground flashed before his eyes. The words he said to Thanos haunted him. _“Spare his life . . . and I will give you the stone.”_

“Well, why the _fuck_ did Stephen give it away then?” Tony snapped angrily, immediately regretting it. For a moment, he was certain that he would spend the rest of his existence in the Astral Plane after angering the most powerful sorcerer of Kamar-Taj.

But for a moment, she could only stand still, watching him with something unknown and dangerous in her eyes. “What did you say?”

The words were heavy in his mouth. “Stephen, he . . . he gave the Time Stone to Thanos, he said it was the only way.” He still wasn’t sure if he believed that. Behind the Ancient One, Stephen’s shade was staring at him with shining eyes. 

“ _Willingly?_ ”

“ _Yes_.” Too willingly, too eager, Tony had always believed that. It was only now that they had a plan that he thought otherwise.

The Ancient One looked away, lost in thought. Then—

His body flew forward, knocking into him. Tony gasped in pain as he was hit with the years-old ache of his chest and the familiar feeling of Stephen’s ring against his skin. 

Slowly, the Ancient One opened the Eye of Agamotto, drawing for the glowing Time Stone. It hovered between her fingers as she held it between them. “Stephen is meant to be the best of us.”

Tony couldn’t help his small, minuscule though it was. “He will be.”

A golden sphere formed around the stone, protecting Tony from its touch. She put it in his hand, holding her own over it. “If Stephen did as you said, then he must have had a reason. But I am counting on you to make sure the stones are returned, _all_ of them.”

Tony took the stone and held it like it was sacred to him. “We won’t fail you.” _I won’t. Not again._

* * *

He passed the hospital on the way back. By then, the battle had stopped and he had decided to make his way back on foot in civilian clothes rather than attract attention in the sky. Especially since he was already in there — one version of himself, at least. One version of himself was in there right now, holding Stephen, comforting him, having a concussion. He could go in there right now and see him.

“But that’s not me, Tony,” Stephen whispered in his ear. “No more than I am.”

Tony winced, shutting his eyes to the hallucination. "Just . . . just come home to me, okay? Please?"

Their hands were almost close enough to touch. “Bring me home, then.” 

Tony opened his eyes. He was gone.

Tony shook his head, brushing away the tears that threatened to fall. He trudged on, ignoring the pain in his chest that demanded he turn around and run into the hospital and see his husband that was not his husband. By the time he made it to the tower, he was half-stumbling, his hands twitching for a drink. He only snapped out of it when he heard Steve speak.

“Tony,” Steve said quietly, calling his attention to the car that he and Scott were sitting in. “We have a problem.”

 _Oh, come on!_ Tony held up the Time Stone, safe in its container. “I got my thing. What about you guys?”

Steve sighed. “Well, getting the scepter was a success—”

“But we lost the Tesseract,” Scott said. 

Tony stared at them. “Are you fucking me up the ass right now?”

Scott paused. “Um . . . no?”

“Really? ‘Cuz it sure feels like you’re fucking me with no lube right now, Scott!”

“Tony,” Steve said tiredly, “can you—”

“No, I cannot! What the fuck happened!”

“Well, we _had_ it, but then the Hulk slammed a door in my face and threw me halfway across a room!” Scott explained, growing more and more frazzled as he spoke. “Goddamned _Loki_ , of all people, got a hold of it and now he’s _gone!_ ” Scott ran his hands through his hair. “Fuck. _Fuck._ This was our one chance, and we fucking _blew it!_ This, this was our shot. We shot it. It's shot. Six stones or nothing. Six stones or nothing!”

“You’re repeating yourself,” Steve said tiredly. “Are there any other options with the Tesseract?”

“There’s no other _options_ , we each have enough particles left for _one_ trip, _one!_ We use that, and we can’t go home!” He stepped out of the car, repeatedly slamming the door in frustration. “We blew it, we fucking _blew it!_ ”

“Well if we don’t _try_ ,” Steve snapped, “then no one else is going home either.”

Tony froze before shaking his head. “That can’t happen. We can’t—”

“ _Tony._ ” Stephen’s voice echoed in his head, but when he looked around, the hallucination was nowhere to be seen. “ _Think._ Take a third option. You’ve done this before.”

Right. _Right_ , he could handle this, he’d done it a thousand times. Tesseract first, that was more important. Okay, okay, Hydra had it in the forties — _Too dangerous, more likely to get blown up than anything else and we wouldn’t know where it was exactly_ — it fell into the Arctic with Steve — _Probably freeze to death before we could get it, location isn’t exact enough_ — Howard found it and it was kept at—

_Wait._

That could work.

He snapped his fingers, sighing in fragile relief. “I’ve got an idea.”

* * *

_— 1970 —_

Camp Lehigh was teeming with activity in the seventies, but the spot he and Steve popped up in was mercifully empty and they were able to reproduce uniforms using the suit technology. They walked through the base, speaking quietly and trying not to draw attention to themselves. “Okay. Imagine you're Shield, running a quasi-fascistic intelligence organization. Where do you hide it?”

Steve stopped, looking at a small stone building with a single door with no guards and two men going in. “In plain sight.”

Tony tapped his glasses. Infrared readings appeared, showing the two men sinking into the ground in an elevator. He nodded silently at Steve, and they were off.

The door required no effort to get into, allowing them to slink into the elevator with ease alongside a woman with a black-and-silver Shield badge. Tony, perhaps a bit paranoid by that point, stood by Steve so she couldn’t see him and hopefully wouldn’t notice that Captain America was in the place that Captain America was created at.

Tony stepped off first, Steve still having a few floors to go. He looked at Steve carefully. “Good luck on your mission, Captain.”

As he stepped off, Steve responded, “Good luck on your project, doctor.” Then the elevator closed, and they were both on their own.

The labs Howard Stark worked in were virtually deserted, allowing Tony to run through and look for the Tesseract with Friday scanning containers. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, _yes_!” He grabbed a random briefcase that was lying around and emptied its contents on the floor. Then, it was only the work of a red-and-gold gauntlet with a laser in the finger to cut open the container that the Tesseract was in. Blue light poured over his face as he sighed in relief. “There we go.” 

He grabbed the cube with his covered hand and set it in the briefcase—

“Arnim?” A too-familiar voice called from the door and getting closer. “You in there?” Just as the man turned the corner that would bring them face-to-face, Tony slammed the briefcase shut, choking off the bright blue light as he stared at his father. 

Howard stopped when he saw him, seeming confused for a moment. Tony, trying not to act too suspiciously (it was not working), picked up the briefcase and turned to walk away. 

“Hey!” Howard called after him. Tony froze, wondering how fast he would have to run if he knocked his dad out— “The door's this way, pal.”

 _Oh. Right._ Tony turned back around, just barely containing his surprise when he saw Stephen leaning against the wall in his scrubs, looking at Howard with distaste. “Oh, I don’t like this guy. Tony, knock him out and steal his shoes.”

Tony chose to ignore that. “Oh, yeah. Sorry, I got kind of lost for a moment there.”

Howard frowned slightly. Tony couldn’t tell if he was suspicious or not. “Do I know you?”

Tony shook his head, anxiety creeping up his spine. _Don’t panic. Now is the WORST time for an attack._ “No, sir, I’m . . . I’m a visitor from MIT.” _Nailed it._

“Ah.” His face lightened slightly. “Got a name?”

“Um . . .” _Think, think, THINK—_ “Howard. Howard Strange.”

Beside him, the shade face-palmed. “I married an idiot.”

If Howard was aware that this was the most suspicious thing ever, he didn’t show it. “Well, that’ll be easy to remember.” He held his hand out and shook Tony’s. “I’m Howard Stark.”

“Oh, what a— what a coincidence.” Was he speaking? That didn’t make sense. How could he be speaking when he couldn’t breathe? That was weird, wasn’t it? He shouldn’t be speaking if he was dying?

“Tony,” Stephen’s voice said calmly from beside him, or maybe behind or inside. “You’re having a panic attack. It’s okay. We’ve done this before. Your heart’s okay. You’re not in any danger. You’re not going to fall. You’re not going to die. You just have to keep speaking and put one foot in front of the other until you’re gone. We’ve done this before, remember?” 

Tony came back to himself enough not to nod in front of Howard, speaking without hearing himself. Then they were walking, Tony’s hand wrapped tightly around the briefcase handle as they did, exchanging pleasant small talk while Stephen’s voice soothed him, as close and as quiet as though he were whispering in his ear. “You’re doing so well, Tony. Just focus on breathing, okay? See? This feels scary, but it’s not dangerous.” His mind supplied him with more and more things that Stephen had said when Tony was low and needed him. 

Howard mentioned that his wife Maria — _Mom_ — was expecting. “Oh, congratulations.” His mouth was dry and his head felt heavy. “Uh, how far along is she?” _Stupid, stupid, stupid—_

“Oh, she's at the point where she can't stand the sound of my chewing.” The elevator they were in started moving. Tony wasn’t sure which direction they were going. “I'll probably be eating dinner in the pantry again.”

Tony made himself laugh. “Been there.”

“You got kids, Strange?”

 _Strange_. Tony liked that. “Uh, eight actually.”

Howard’s brows raised. “Wow.”

“Well, seven of ‘em are adopted. Orphans, bad families.”

Howard nodding, seeming to understand. “Nice of you to do that.”

“Oh, you know, I just . . . love taking care of them.”

“Well, we’re just having one for now.” Howard fiddled with his tie. “I think I want a girl. That’d be nice.”

“Really?” Made sense. He always was a disappointment. _Breathe, Strange, breathe._ There was still a feeling of dread coating his body, but it wasn’t as heavy anymore. 

Howard nodded, not noticing the mental gymnastics Tony was going through. “Less of a chance she'd turn out exactly like me.”

Tony couldn’t help himself. He asked, “What'd be so awful about that?”

Howard paused, seeming frozen for a moment before speaking. “Let's just say that the greater good has rarely outweighed my own self-interests.”

Before Tony had time to process that, the elevator door opened, and they were outside. He shook his head, deciding to table the thought. “Where are you at with names?”

“Well, if it's a boy, my wife likes Almanzo.”

“. . . You got time.”

They made their way to the side of the road, Howard waiting for a car and Tony for Steve. “Let me ask you something,” Howard said, fiddling with his tie. “When you got the kids . . . were you nervous?”

“Still am. I kind of . . . pieced it together as we went along. Just tried to be better than my dad best I could.” He thought he was better than that; he was pretty sure he was better than Stephen’s parents at least. He didn’t think he would ever be as good as Jarvis was when he was a kid, but he could try. 

Some distance behind Howard, Steve caught Tony’s eye, wearing a pair of sunglasses and subtly giving him a thumbs-up. _Right. The Pym Particles._ Hank Pym was probably running around the base in a panic right now. _Time to go._ “I should get going. Need to pick up my . . . wife. Nice talking to you.” He barely heard Howard’s response, feeling his heart beating a mile a minute as he walked to Steve. Suddenly, he turned, finding a small quiet space where he could mostly hide himself for a moment. He buried his face in his hands, forcing air through his lungs.

“Shh,” Stephen said quietly next to his ear. Tony didn’t try to see him. “It’s okay.”

Tony tried biting down on his hand to keep from speaking. It didn’t work. “Tell me you're here.”

“I'm here.”

“Tell me you love me.”

“I love you, Tony.”

Tony panted, forcing himself to look up. Stephen was gon— Stephen was never there. 

He struggled to walk, checking three times to see that he still had the briefcase before going to find Steve, his blood rushing through his ears. _Well dad, at least you taught me how to be better._

* * *

The trip back seemed almost too fast, sending them all reeling onto the platform. Tony, still dizzy from his panic attack, stumbled more than the others, falling against Bruce’s side and using him to stand properly.

Bruce clapped his shoulder as gently as he could with his huge hands before speaking. “Did we get all of them?”

Rhodey’s suit transformed back into its usual grey-and-silver, the faceplate retracting to show his smile. “Are you telling me this actually worked?”

Tony breathed out, looking around with a crooked smile. _I can’t believe . . ._

The sense of _wrongness_ hit him full in the face as he looked at each face, slowly realizing what it was. 

“Clint,” Bruce said, Thor close by his side, “where’s Nat?”

Clint’s hair and eyes were wet. He wore the face of someone who knew they were about to break down and welcomed it. He didn’t speak.

* * *

The compound felt claustrophobic, robbed of the person who was its head for five years, its heart. They went outside, to the lakeside to think and . . . and . . . 

Tony spoke first. “Do we know if she had family? Someone we should . . . do we need to call someone and tell them?”

Steve shook his head. His cheeks were wet. “Just us.”

Thor was standing, seeming almost confused. Uncomprehending. “No, you’re . . . you're acting like she's dead. Why are we acting like she's dead? We have the stones, right? As long as we have the stones, Cap, we can bring her back, isn't that right?” His voice was growing louder. “So stop this shit. We're the _Avengers_ , get it together.”

“We can’t get her back.” Clint was sat away from the rest of them, looking out on the water. 

Thor stared at him. “What?”

“It can't be undone.” His voice broke. “It can't.”

Thor laughed, sounding half-mad. “I'm sorry. No offense, but you're a very _earthly_ being, okay? We're talking about _space magic_. And _can't_ seems very definitive, don't you think?”

“Look,” Clint said loudly before lowering his voice, “I know that I'm way outside my paygrade here, but it _can’t be undone._ ” His tears flowed freely now. “He _said_ so. Her life was the price for the whole _goddamn_ universe! You wanna go talk to the guy?” His voice kept rising until he was shouting in Thor’s face. “Well then go _grab your fucking HAMMER, and you go fly and you talk to him!_ ”

Thor didn’t respond, looking away. Tony shook his head over and over again, wondering what he could have done to fix this, to make it right. _It should have been me._ Stephen watched him, not speaking.

Clint’s face crumpled, staring at the ground so he didn’t have to see them. “It was supposed to be me. She sacrificed her life for that goddamn _stone_ , she _bet her life on it.”_

Moving so suddenly no one thought to stop him, Bruce wrench up a bench and hurled it into the water, roaring his anger and frustration and grief. “She’s not coming back . . . she’s not . . .”

Clint’s head rose, staring at him. “Then make it worth it. Whatever it takes. _Make it worth it._ ”

* * *

The new gauntlet was red-and-gold, the most precisely-made thing that Tony had ever worked on. The old bots, now upgraded for safety purposes, were brought out to handle the stones since most of them couldn’t. Tony watched with the others as they were placed into the glove, wondering if maybe they should be in a different room while this happened—

No such problems. The stones glowed once in their new home, but otherwise all was fine. Tony let out a breath, relieved—

“Boo!” Rocket shouted suddenly, making everyone jump.

Tony’s heart skipped. _I swear, I’m gonna shave that little rodent one of these days . . ._

Before they could finish what they started, Tony took a moment to himself in his old room, sitting on the bed with his eyes shut. There was no weight next to him. He knew that.

But it felt like there was.

“I guess this is the end of the line, then?” the Hallucination asked, trying to make its voice light and somehow failing. “This is it?”

Tony nodded. “This is it.”

There was silence for a moment before Stephen spoke again. “I’ll be with you soon. Properly.”

Something like a small graced Tony’s lips. He moved as close as he could to the hallucination without passing through it. “I can't wait to hold you.”

* * *

Rocket leaned over the finished gauntlet, one gloved paw holding the fingers. “The glove’s ready.” He looked up at them, all gathered in anticipation. “Question is, who's gonna snap their freaking fingers?”

Thor walked forward. “I’ll do it.”

Bruce looked at him. “Excuse me?”

“It’s okay.” He tried to move past them, but soon they were all surrounding him and speaking over each other to keep him in place. Tony was at the front, his hands held up to keep him from getting too close.

“Hold up, big guy,” Tony said calmly. “We haven't decided who's gonna put that on yet.”

Thor scoffed. “What, are we just going to sit around waiting for the right opportunity? That’s not gonna bring everybody back. I'm the strongest Avenger, so this responsibility falls upon me.” He squared his shoulders, trying to look half-way respectable with his still dirty hair and beard and clothes. “It's my duty.”

Tony shook his head, moving closer so Thor was forced to back up. “It’s not about that. It’s not—”

Thor shook his head, his resolve crumbling, though he tried to hold it together. “Just let me . . .” His voice was quiet as he pleaded with Tony. “Just let me do it. Let me do something good, something _right_.”

Tony grabbed Thor’s hand, holding him in place. “It's not just the fact that that glove is channeling enough energy to light up a continent. I'm telling you, you're in no condition.” Tony had seen people at their lowest, usually just by looking in a mirror. He knew what it was like and he knew that it was too dangerous for Thor to do this.

Thor grabbed his shoulders, building up his strength. “Do you know what’s coursing through my veins right now? _Lightning._ ”

“Lightning won’t help you, Thor,” Bruce said quietly, stepping up to him. They looked at each other, and something passed between their eyes. “You saw what those stones did to Thanos. It almost killed him. None of you could survive. So it's gotta be me.” Bruce stepped forward, staring at the gauntlet.

“What makes you think you will?” Thor demanded angrily, his voice breaking. 

“The radiation's mostly gamma. It's like . . . I was made for this.”

Thor stared at him for a long time before nodding, finally letting go of Tony. “Okay. Okay. But you can’t die. If you die, I’ll never forgive you.”

Bruce smiled wanly. “Of course, Poptart.”

Tony was caught between gagging and going ‘aww’. He decided against both and turned his attention to the gauntlet, carefully handing it to Bruce. “Are you ready now?”

Bruce nodded, looking down as the gauntlet expanded to fit his hands. “Ready.”

“Okay. Remember, everyone who died because of Thanos five years ago. Don’t try to turn back time all the way or do too much. The universe is already fucked as is, we can’t risk making it worse.”

“I know, Tony,” Bruce said quietly. Everyone was suited up but Tony, wearing masks or helmets if they had them and watching from behind a glass wall if they didn’t. There was no telling what might be unleashed when Bruce snapped. Precautions were necessary.

Tony’s hands shook as he tapped the arc reactor in his chest. Nanites encased him in the Iron Man suit and formed a shield that he held between himself and Bruce. “Okay. Friday, do me a favor and activate Protocol 8.”

“Yes, Boss.” Seconds later, huge metal shutters moved over every window in the compound and shut the room they were in off from the rest of the building. 

Bruce slowly moved the gauntlet over his hand. “Everybody comes home.” Thor watched worriedly, one hand curled around Tony’s arm.

Bruce screamed, falling to his knee as neon lights ran up and down his arm in thin lines, like lightning. He tried to force his hand to close, his eyes clenched shut.

“Take it off!” Thor tried to run forward, but Tony held him back. “TAKE IT OFF!”

The lightning made it to his throat, burning the sleeve off his shirt and roasting his arm black. Still, he shook his head. “I’m okay!” His voice was weak and painful. His fingers curled in. Sweat poured down his face, turning to steam. 

He forced his fingers together—

“ _AGGGHHHHHH—_ ”

He snapped.

* * *

Stephen sat with his legs crossed and eyes closed, his hands making complicated twisting and weaving gestures. Peter wandered nearby, never more than a hundred feet away, his eyes lost and clouded. If Stephen cared to look, he knew he would see the Guardians nearby in the same state. The others weren’t aware of the passing of time. In truth, they weren’t aware of anything anymore. 

But he was. Him, and one other person.

Donna Strange sat beside her brother, chatting amiably as he worked, not at all disheartened by his apparent lack of interest. She knew he heard her, even if he was too busy to react. She spoke of the things she’d seen since they last spoke, of the planets she visited and how people were or weren’t recovering, of great works of art and nature and strange customs. Stephen listened to her with a smile that quickly faded.

_It’s happening._

Stephen put his scarred hands down, hoping he’d done enough, and looked at his sister. “I have to go now.”

Donna’s sentence broke off. She stared at him, stricken. “Oh.” He thought she might cry if she could. “I guess I should be happy for you.”

“You don’t have to be. It’s hard to say goodbye to you.” _But I’m glad I got a chance this time._

She nodded, looking away. “You’ll remember me, right?”

Stephen nodded, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. “Always.”

“Okay.” She forced herself to shake her head and clear her voice. “Okay, go. Go and live and do important things.”

Stephen could feel the universe pulling him. He held off for a moment longer. “I will. And I'll tell you all about it when I see you again.”

He closed his eyes and let himself be pulled together again. 

When he woke, Peter was standing over him, running his hands through his hair and panicking. “Doctor Strange? Oh my God, are you okay! I think I passed out and everything’s kind of a blur, but you weren’t responding and—”

“Peter,” Stephen said, making him still. “We don’t have time to chat. We need to get everybody together.”

Peter frowned. “Who? Why?”

Stephen stood, brushing the orange dust from his robes. “Thanos is coming.”

* * *

The gauntlet fell from Bruce’s hand as he slammed into the floor. Thor kicked it away before running over to him, Tony close behind. 

“Bruce? Come on buddy, talk to me.” Tony sprayed Bruce’s black and shrunken arm with nanite gel. “Are you okay?”

Bruce finally opened his eyes, grabbing Thor’s hand with his uninjured arm. “Did it work?”

“We don’t know yet,” Thor said, brushing his fingers through Bruce’s hair comfortingly. “But it’s over. It’s done.” 

Light flooded the room as metal uncovered the windows. Friday took Bruce’s vitals, making them all sigh in relief when she said that, though injured and in need of care, he would live. 

Tony helped Bruce up with Thor’s help. “We gotta get you to the infirmary. Friday, start making calls and checking online, see if it worked.” A thought occurred to him that sent electricity up his spine. “Also, check Stephen’s—”

All hell broke loose.

Tony was slammed into the ground as the building blew up around him, huge slabs of concrete and glass falling from the sky. His hands scrambled for purchase, shouting at the others as they fell in the opposite direction, falling along the floor that broke in half underneath them. 

Tony’s head whipped around, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. “FUCK— hello?! Is everyone—” He heaved a pile of debris off of his chest, struggling to stand. “Is everyone okay?! Is anyone nearby?!”

No answer.

The sky was grey with smoke. The blackened remains of the compound lay around him like volcanic ruins. Sparks fell from broken wires into pools of water from the pipes. 

The suit was still working for the most part. A few garbled lines tried to come through, but he couldn’t make them out. _Crap._ He walked around carefully, growing still when he found Steve’s shield.

 _No, no, no, no—_ He picked it up and looked around. “Fri, scan for people.” Tony felt himself relax when Friday found someone lying what should have been a few rooms away, not moving and probably unconscious, but alive. 

Tony wanted to run, but he had to be careful. The ground shifted beneath him with every step. It took too long to get to Steve, who was luckily uncovered and unluckily knocked out. Tony lightly kicked his side. “Come on buddy, wake up.”

Steve gasped and jackknifed up, eyes wide as his head twisted from side to side. Tony put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s it, come on.” He held the shield out. “You lose this again, I'm keeping it.”

Panting, Steve took it, wincing when he tried to stand. “What the hell happened?”

Tony averted his eyes. “We messed with time. It tends to mess back. You'll see.”

They couldn’t stay there. They still had no clue where most of the others were, but it only took a few minutes of searching to find Thor. The god was standing on the brink of the destruction, looking out at the crater that had once been the lawn. In the middle sat a familiar purple figure in gold armor with a sword at his side.

_Thanos._

Tony tensed, staring. “What’s he been doing?”

Thor didn’t avert his gaze. “Nothing.”

Steve was holding the shield to cover his chest. “Where are the stones?”

Tony shook his head. “Somewhere under . . . all _this_. He can’t have gotten them.”

“Then let’s keep it that way.”

Thor stepped forward once. “You know it’s a trap, right?”

“Oh, definitely,” Tony said, his faceplate coming down. “But I don’t really care.”

Thor’s eyes glowed blue. “As long as we’re all in agreement.” Thunder rolled above them as lightning danced in the clouds. When Thor raised his hands, electricity moved up and down his arms as Stormbreaker and Mjolnir raced to him and his clothes changed to armor. “Let’s kill him properly this time.”

They didn’t try to hide as they walked up. It wouldn’t have worked. Thanos smirked when they were close, standing on the same circle of dirt as him. “You could not live with your own failure. And where did that bring you? Back to me.” His eyes carefully tracked their movements. “I thought by eliminating half of life, the other half would thrive. But you’ve shown me that’s impossible. As long as there are those that remember what _was_ , there will always be those that are unable to accept what _can be_. They will resist.”

“Well, we’re a stubborn bunch,” Tony said, his voice lacking its usual levity.

“I'm thankful. Because now . . . I know what I must do.” He stood, one hand reaching for the giant sword that was taller than him. “I will shred this universe down to its last _atom_. And then, with the stones you've collected for me, create a new one.” He pulled the sword from the dirt, facing them. “ _Teeming_ with life. It won’t know what it lost. Only what it has been given. A _grateful_ universe.”

“Born out of blood,” Steve said, raising his shield in preparation.

“They’ll never know. And you won’t be alive to tell them.”

Before Thanos could make the first move, Thor roared his battle cry, raising Stormbreaker as Tony attacked with a nanite sword from behind. The sound of metal-on-metal screamed through the air, shaking Tony’s bones, but it didn’t stop him. 

He moved down, nanites forming and reforming as Steve moved in, throwing his shield and stealing Thanos’s attention from them, providing an opening wherever he could. Reactor pulses lit up the field as Tony aimed both hands at him, twisting around in the air as missiles and rockets pummeled the Titan.

Explosions kept going while Steve slammed into him again and again with the shield, giving Thor and Tony enough time to make their move. A star-shape formed on the back of Tony’s suit, with a hole in the middle for sucking up energy. It was originally designed with Stephen in mind, but this should work. “Hit me.”

Behind him, lightning shot down as Thor slammed Mjolnir and Stormbreaker together, blasting enough power to light up New York directly into the suit—

—which immediately redirected it to the Mad Titan. Thanos met the six sun-bright beams by spinning his sword in a circle in front of him, just barely managing to hold it off while Thor threw Mjolnir forward—

 _Oh, wow, he’s closer now._ Thanos marched forward, grabbing Tony by the leg and lifting him up, allowing the hammer to slam into him before he was thrown back.

 _What a . . . oh, fuck . . ._ His vision blurred before the world went black.

* * *

When Tony opened his eyes again, he thought he’d died.

He wasn’t really upset, though. Stephen was there. 

His husband floated down in front of him with the Cloak, with what might have been the most open smile he’d worn since their wedding. "Mister Strange. Did you miss me?"

Tony sat up, numb to the pain in his head. He searched Stephen for any sign of something wrong, something that didn’t match, that would give the hallucination away as what it was—

Stephen knelt before him and took his hand in his. “Tony?”

He stared. How could he not? He was so overwhelmed with emotion — love, grief, pain, happiness, aching — that he couldn’t stop the tears that fell from his eyes, like a waterfall breaking forth from a dam. He pulled Stephen down into his lap, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and sobbing into his chest. 

Stephen cradled his head with shaking hands. “I’m here, Tony.”

Tony looked up at him, smiling through his tears. “Hey, Doctor Stark. Where’ve you been?”

Stephen laughed, leaning down and pressing their foreheads together. 

Just when they started to kiss, Pepper landed beside them in the blue-and-gold Rescue suit, an amused smile on her face. “I hate to break up the reunion, but . . .” She looked around. For the first time, Tony noticed two things. First, the army of aliens that had come to kill them all. Second, the army of aliens, Asgardians, Sorcerers, Wakandans, and dusted heroes coming out of glowing orange portals to fight them.

“Oh, that’s—” From the pile of broken stone, concrete, and metal that was the compound, Scott Lang burst forth as a giant, Bruce, Rhodey, and Rocket all safely in hand. “—convenient.” He looked back to his husband with a smile, only to see the frozen, terrified look on his face. “Stephen? What’s—”

Stephen leaned back, opening a portal next to them, only big enough for one hand. He reached through and pulled out a ball of glowing green light, holding it between them. “Got your gloves on?”

Tony held up his hands, covered in shining red metal.

“Perfect.” Stephen took his hand and put it on the bottom of the weird glowy ball, then held the top with his own hand. 

“What are you doing?” The light twisted, turning into two streams of energy, one of which flowed directly into the Iron Man suit, the other into Stephen himself, making the sorcerer tilt his head back and wince in pain.

Stephen shook it off, opening his eyes. “Whatever it takes.” Stephen took his hand with his arm and hauled him to his feet. Around them, hundreds of people stood facing Thanos’s army. “Can you fight?”

Tony faced the man who killed his husband. His eyes turned to steel as his helmet took shape around his head. “Yeah, I can fight.”

They stood with Pepper, Rhodey, and Peter as Steve summoned Mjolnir (which . . . was a development). Two orange shields formed at Stephen’s fists as Tony’s repulsors lit up. “AVENGERS!” The hammer slammed into Steve’s hand. “ _Assemble._ ” 

They flew into battle side-by-side, and for a moment it was just them, together, in the entire universe and no one else. Then they slammed into the wall of enemies, and the fight was on.

They stayed close, never losing sight of each other. Stephen wrapped Chitauri soldiers up in whips and threw them into the sky for Tony to shoot out, opened portals for rockets and repulsor blasts, and fought with him over who got to defend who. Tony huffed in annoyance as Stephen stood to his back with a Seraphin shield while he held up one made of nanites. “Babe, you were just dead for five years, let me protect you!”

“Oh please, you couldn’t survive without me.” As though to prove his point, an alien ( _Hey, Alien Mountain is back!_ ) grabbed Tony by the waist, only to drop him when something stuck to the alien’s back and yanked him away. 

Stephen seeing this, went cold, quickly helping Tony to his feet before walking past him. He rose into the sky, the Cloak flaring dramatically, as he started to glow green, starting with his third eye and ending with his entire body. With a single, swift movement, Thanos’s soldier evaporated, becoming less than dust, less than atoms. Seconds later, every foe within ten feet of his husband suffered the same fate, driving any others away and into the weapons of their allies.

For a minute, Tony could only stare. _Oh, fuck. Oh baby fucking Jesus, that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Holy fuck. My throat is gonna be so fucking sore tomorrow. Fucking top me._

He was pulled out of his (rapidly escalating) thoughts by a certain spiderling running over to him, excitedly grabbing his arm. “Oh my God, that was so— I didn’t know Doctor Strange could do that! Oh, you won’t believe what’s been going on! Do you remember when we were in space? And I got all dusty? I must've passed out, 'cause I woke up, and you were gone. But Doctor Strange was there, and he was like, ‘we need to hurry up and get everyone because Thanos is coming!’ And I said, ‘Didn’t he just do that?’ But then Doctor Strange started doing the yellow sparkly thing—”

Tony stared at him as he rambled, his eyes soft and tired and radiating fondness, before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Peter’s shoulder, pulling the kid into a hug and closing his eyes in silent contentment when Peter returned the gesture. 

“Oh . . . this is nice.”

A moment later, a portal opened under their feet, dropping them in a nearby clear spot as Stephen rolled his eyes. “I love you two, but you were about to get your heads taken off. Keep up!”

Tony grinned and followed Stephen into the air, quickly distracted by warbling over his comms. “Steph, I can’t hear anyone in this thing, you wanna—”

Stephen landed on Tony’s back and wrapped his legs around his waist to stay in place while he tapped at where he knew the proper wiring in the suit to be. Tony laughed, thinking of when they flew to confront Vanko so many years ago. “Now _this_ brings back memories!”

“Keep your nasty thoughts to yourself, Stark!” Sam yelled at him over the comms.

Stephen, satisfied that they were working again, hopped off of Tony’s back and into the fight. Over the comms, Bruce yelled, “We need to get the stones _back_ where they came from!”

“No way to get them back,” Tony said, shooting down some dog-like monsters that Stephen dropped in front of him. “Thanos destroyed the quantum tunnel.”

“Hold on!” Scott said. Across the battlefield, Tony saw him shrink down to normal size. “That wasn't our only time machine.” Something clicked, and through the chaos, Tony heard an annoyingly over-the-top car horn blare.

“Anyone see an ugly, brown van up there?” Steve asked.

“Yes!” Valkyrie, Thor’s Asgardian friend, shouted from atop of a— _Pegasus?_ “But you're not gonna like where it's parked.”

Tony paused for a moment to scan, groaning when he realized what they needed was in the middle of Thanos’s forces. _Naturally._ “Scott, how long do you need to get that thing working?”

“Um . . . ten minutes?”

“Get it started,” Steve ordered, “we’ll get the stones to you.”

“We’re on it.”

Ahead of him, Stephen opened a glowing purple portal in the ground, summoning tendrils of light to impale them on before dragging them into the Earth.

 _Fuck, my husband’s hot._ Tony landed beside him, quickly checking for injuries. “Hey. You said one out of twenty million, we win. Is this it?”

Stephen’s hands rested on his arm. “If I tell you, it’ll change. I can’t risk it.”

“Oh, of course not, asshole.”

Stephen laughed. “Just stay with me, douchebag.”

They tried to stay on Clint’s tail, diverting enemies away, but were overwhelmed soon after it was passed to T’Challa. Then—

Hundreds of glowing blue projectiles launched from Thanos’s ship, exploding on impact and downing people from both sides as dirt and dust blew up around them. Stephen wrapped an arm around Tony’s waist and used his free hand to form a Seraphim shield above them. Across the battlefield, other sorcerers did the same, joining forces wherever they could and protecting people to the best of their ability. 

“ _Guys!_ ” Pepper said, flying above them. “The dam!”

Stephen watched in horror as a nearby dam started to crack apart from the fire being rained on it. He turned to his husband.

“Go,” Tony said, holding his own shield up. “I’ve got this.”

Stephen quickly kissed him before flying away, landing at the base of the waterfall that was about to form. He threw his hands up, orange rings forming around each arm. He concentrated all his energy on the water, making it form a whirlpool in the air. “Wong!” Stephen said, knowing that no matter how far apart they were, the other sorcerer would hear him. “I’m going to have to move soon, and I need someone to hold this when I do!”

“We’re on it!” Wong and two apprentices ran towards him. In the air, he watched Pepper trail Peter and Valkyrie as they carried the gauntlet across the field before the teen fell somewhere with it. 

It took all of Stephen’s strength to stay where he was. “ _Peter!”_

Suddenly, the ship’s firing stopped. The cannons shifted, aiming at something in the sky and firing. 

“Friday,” Tony said, “what the hell are they firing at?”

“Something just entered the upper atmosphere.”

A glowing gold and orange form parted the clouds above before blasting through the ship, going straight from the top to the bottom, disabling the cannons and causing explosions to go off. Carol Danvers doubled back, practically tearing the ship in half as she tore into it before emerging into the sky.

Tony couldn’t help his shout. “ _Hell_ yeah!”

The defeated ship fell into the water — which did make Stephen’s job harder, but at least it wasn’t killing them now.

Carol landed hard on the ground, collecting the gauntlet from Peter before storming through Thanos’s forces alongside a retinue of more than a dozen female heroes, ripping apart Chitauri and Leviathan like they were nothing. 

Tony followed them, shooting down fliers wherever he could knocking the gauntlet away when Thanos ran up and tried to grab it. Thor and Steve held the Titan back when Tony got knocked to the side. Then when _they_ fell and Thanos pulled the gauntlet on, Carol threw him back grabbing his hand and holding his fingers apart so he couldn’t snap. She almost had him down when Thanos pulled the Power Stone out and knocked it against her head, sending her flying back. 

Tony struggled to his feet, feeling an ache at the base of his spine. From the base of the dam, Stephen turned and caught his eye. In that moment, Tony wanted nothing more than for the rest of the world to disappear and leave only them, together and alone and happy.

_Is this it?_

Stephen nodded. 

Thanos forced the Power Stone back into the gauntlet, screaming out in pain as the strength of the Infinity Stones coursed through him. Tony ran up and grabbed at the gauntlet, pulling Thanos forward as his hands slipped over the stones. He didn’t even get it half off before Thanos punched him twice in the hand, hurling him away.

Thanos smirked, holding his hand up. “I am . . . _inevitable_.”

He snapped.

. . . he snapped, and nothing happened.

Thanos looked at Tony in shock as he held up his hand, the Infinity Stones fitting into place on the suit’s gloves. He threw his head back when electricity coursed up and down his arm, gritting his teeth and pain saturated his every cell, filling him until he knew nothing else.

Tony stared the Titan down. “And I . . . am . . . _Iron Man_.” He snapped.

Around them, Thanos’s forces turned to dust and ash as the stones pulled them apart. Leviathan fell from the sky. The Maw reached out to his master one last time before vanishing. Thanos watched in shock as everything he had collapsed around him. Finally, feeling himself weaken, the Titan sat down, panting tiredly before closing his eyes and becoming nothing.

Tony fell to the ground, screaming when he landed on his right side. His entire arm was numb, dead to him as the rest of his body cried out for relief.

Across the battlefield, Stephen collapsed in pain, his hands curled to his chest. Rhodey landed next to him, not knowing what to do. “Doc?”

“Tony,” Stephen moaned, opening his eyes. “Take me to Tony!”

Rhodey quickly did as he asked, carrying Stephen to his husband. The sorcerer fell forward when he saw Tony, collapsing into his lap and draping his arms around his neck.

Somehow, Tony mustered a smile. “Wouldn’t it be . . . artsy if we just . . . died in each other’s arms like this . . . Doctor Stark?”

Stephen chuckled before wincing. “No . . . I don’t think I’d like that . . . Mister Strange”

Pepper and Peter joined them, reaching out but not quite touching. “Mister Stark?” Peter asked, his voice cracking and wobbling. “Doctor Strange? What happened? We won, didn’t we? We won?”

Stephen rested his tired head on Tony’s chest, the glow of the arc reactor lighting his face. “We need . . . medics. Now, don’t . . . we need . . . he needs . . .” The last thing Stephen saw was Tony’s eyes. 

* * *

When Tony woke, the first thing he noticed was the aching pain that throbbed through his body. Then, how light his right side was. When he opened his eyes, he saw Stephen in the hospital bed across from him.

Tony tried to sit up, immediately crying out. He gasped in pain and shock when he realized what had happened — his arm was gone.

His right arm was _gone_.

Someone must have heard him cry out. Immediately, Pepper and Rhodey were running in as Wong and Christine made their way over to him from where they’d been sitting. 

“What?” Tony asked, whipping his head around in confusion. “What . . . Thanos? Stephen?”

Rhodey gently brushed his hair from his face. “Thanos is gone, Tony.” His voice was tight with unshed tears. “You did it.”

Tony shook his head. “No . . . what happened to . . .”

Wong pressed a hand to his forehead. “Rest now, Stark.”

_No . . . wait . . . Stephen . . ._

* * *

For days, he slipped in and out of consciousness. It was a week before he was awake enough to understand what was happening. 

“It was an energy absorption spell,” Wong explained, standing over Tony as he kept his eyes trained on his sleeping husband. “Stronger than any I’ve seen. He must have spent the five years doing that, planning and perfecting it. Most of the Infinity Stone’s power went to your suit, but he knew it couldn’t take it all. Your arm was destroyed.”

“And the rest?” Tony asked, his voice small and weak. He already knew the answer.

That didn’t keep Wong from hesitating. “He took the rest. It didn’t kill him, but he’s in a healing coma now.” He paused, unable to keep the pity from his eyes. “I don’t know when he’ll wake up.”

“But he will, right?” Tony asked. “He will?”

It took a moment for Wong to nod. “He should, yes. If he were going to die, he would have by now.”

Tony supposed that would have to comfort him.

* * *

Tony never moved out of the infirmary room, having his bed moved to directly beside Stephen. 

Christine helped him fit the new nanite prosthetic on. “It’s sturdy,” she said. She shouldn’t be working. She should be focusing on herself and the child that was going to join them soon. But she wouldn’t have anyone else tend to them. 

Christine watched him stare at Stephen, the sorcerer still peacefully unconscious. She took Tony’s real hand in hers. “He’s gonna be okay. He’s stronger than this.”

Tony nodded, never looking away. “I know. But when?”

She didn’t have an answer.

* * *

Tony sat beside Stephen as he plowed through paperwork, agreeing to shared custody with his kids’ recently alive parents. He paused halfway through, resting the papers on his legs before leaning forward. The metal hand gently caressed Stephen’s cheek. “You’re not ready to wake up. You’re still healing. That's okay. I waited five years. I can wait five more, or five hundred, or five _thousand_ more. I'm not going anywhere. I said I’d catch you when you fall. Well, this is a pretty big fall.” He carefully squeezed one of Stephen’s scarred hands. For once, they didn’t shake. “Don’t worry. I won’t drop you.”

* * *

The kids started to leave the same week as Vincent Palmer-Potts was born. Riri was the first, trying to hold it together as she said goodbye.

Tony didn’t hesitate to hug her. “Okay, Riri, stay safe and you know my number if you ever need help. I’ll see you every two weeks, got it?”

The young woman nodded, tears threatening to burst from her eyes. “Yeah. I know, Dad.”

Tony never thought to correct her.

“Before I go . . .” She looked past Tony to her siblings, all of them gathered on the porch. “All of us . . . well, it’s dumb . . .”

Tess ran forward, proudly holding up a construction paper card half as tall as her. “We made this!”

Tony delicately took the card, a small, fond smile overtaking his face. “What is it?”

“It’s for Stephen!” Morgan explained excitedly, wrapped around Pepper’s leg. “To help him feel better.”

It was not an exaggeration to say that Tony shed one or two tears as he looked at his children’s names scribbled on the bright blue paper in crayon and marker, along with drawings of Stephen and Tony in battle, in the infirmary, and finally at their wedding. He cradled it to his chest, smiling softly. “It’s perfect, guys. Just what he needs.”

* * *

For five months, Tony lived in the infirmary. Stephen was the first thing he saw in the morning and the last thing at night. He did his physical therapy there, worked on new plans for prosthetics there, cradled Vincent and helped the kids with their homework there. He never lost hope, never gave up on waiting for Stephen.

And after five months, it paid off.

Blue-green eyes were open when Tony woke up. Stephen looked over at him in confusion. “Tony? Did we win? Are you okay?”

Tony didn’t try to stop his tears, collapsing into Stephen’s bed and sobbing into his chest. Stephen let him, drawing soothing patterns into his back.

Tony looked up at him, smiling. “Yeah, Stephen. We’re okay.” He kissed him, soaking in his presence like a starving man eating. “But in the future, let’s try to keep it at one of us in the hospital at a time.”

Stephen chuckled, kissing him softly. “Okay, Tony. Whatever you say.”

They lay in each other's arms, and the world spun around them as they finally rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: suicidal thoughts, alcohol abuse
> 
> So this is like, the end. It's almost surreal. This has been my main writing project for months now, and it's WAY longer than I originally anticipated. The fact that it's over . . . I mean, I'll probably do Far From Home and future Doctor Strange movies, a few asides maybe, but the big event is done. 
> 
> I'm probably going to start work on a dark ironstrange fic once I have it all outlined and planned, so look forward to that. But for now . . . thank you. For your support and your many lovely comments, thank you. I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I did writing it.
> 
> (. . . this isn't relevant to the above, but I just really liked writing Tony and Stephen fighting together, okay)


End file.
